I’m laid on my back, stripped there and then, unbuttoned, unfastened, unhooked, unveiled, each layer until there are no layers left, the cotton, the lace, elastic and silk, the inhibitions we wear so well no offered in sacrifice, given away, thrown into the fray, into the fire, scratches of fingernails catching the skin, welts of red lines parallel designs, a make-believe wound, mysterious runes, love or lust letters, kisses deep, tongues seek, my legs spread wide, you’re between them, pushing, pushing, insisting yourself inside me, I feel your tip, so raw, so swollen, touch me first then open me, my eyes implore, exploring your face, stretch me and push feeling how wet I’ve become, our skin, no holding back, no going back, our limbs becoming a cage in which we are locked, so intimate bound, closing my eyes I visualise how you fit in my thighs, how tight I feel, how thick you feel moving, moving, moving, your entire length makes my hips shudder, makes my breasts ache as they move with a new rhythm, your hips colliding with mine entirely bare, the heat, the sweat, entangled Celtic knots, I’ve no control, my fingers clutched in yours and my arms stretched out above me, moving, moving, moving deeper, harder, quicker and then slower, holding, holding, holding back, can you see the edge, the precipice, then quicker, quicker, the world shakes, we’re breaking the sound of air in two when you’re rigid, your muscles, your tendons strained beyond safe and you surrender, release and let flow and I grip, I hold, I feel my soul fragmenting, displaced, dispossessed, slow motion, feel the warmth, the semen, your semen uploading, exploding, my body receives every drop, every thrust, every fluid ounce, the air begs for mercy, our throats wish for words but have lost their voice,  I arch, we arc, we find ourselves on the ceiling breathing in each other’s sin, where I end and where you begin is all but a blur, nothing exists outside those seconds, our carnal aggression has left all questions behind and buried beneath the pile of discarded clothes on the floor, the room is thick with the profligate and promiscuous, a flaunting immodesty, the rapacious untamed.

© Emmaleela


  1. Your writing is so wonderfully untamed and untethered. The expression and how you plant the scene in the mind of the reader is something I don’t have a word for.

    Liked by 1 person

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s