When enough has no bounds
March 6, 2009
I call you Mr W.
I like how you plant mini kisses in a row on my back, before pushing my neck down when I started arching in pleasure. Your firm hands, mixed with an apprehensive glance and shuddering breath turned me on. With a final culminating effort resulted from the urging need for pleasure, I managed to get on top of you.
You, on your back, while I assumed the dominant position. Your muscles tensed up when I run my tongue from your abs to your neck, before giving you a deviant smile while licking my lips.
Sometimes, when I feel an overwhelming animalistic urge to mark you as mine, I clamp my jaw on your neck before sucking hard, letting air suction and my teeth do the trick. You recoil in pain before you realised it was an act of uninhibitedness.
But like pleasures, you are but a fleeting point of my life. When I told you I don’t want to see you anymore, I meant it. Because some bites do heal, because permanence is merely an illusion of what will end.
My dear fellow teleiophile, every time I type “teleiophilia” into Google, your wordpress comes up. And I just felt the need to comment, considering you appear to have resurrected it in the last month.
But your entries are ever so vague, and I’m curious as to their purpose and roots.
For you see, I am saddened by what I call the Great Lack of Teleiophilia on the Internet. Meaningful accounts of teleiophilia, that is. And it’s difficult to come out as a teleiophile or find any solidarity with others, or be brave enough to try to find some distinguished gentleman to fuck. I believe there’s something to be gained from us teleiophiles banding together and communicating. I too have a journal, if you feel like taking a browse. trueteleiophile.livejournal.com
Good luck with whatever you’re doing right now – and nice entry, by the way. Interestingly enough, I just recently ceased seeing someone I called Mr. W. as well. Life’s coincidences.