Stranger

I touch you like I never did before. My caress is electric, my fingertips sensitive as coal-black velvet, a wet erotic tongue on my ballsack.

I smell the sweat in the nape of your hair, the thin stubble underneath your arms, the musky honey between your labia.

I've never touched you before. What I took for granted is now new and strange. Urgent and unknowable, the last time and the first, a tightrope walk both accidental and reckless.

The ass and cock I always knew like alien flesh. The bucking and spit, salty like no brine I had ever tasted. Your beautiful kisses down my hairy stomach, rock hard to my heaving cum-cock. Always waiting. Hard and ready to fit into you like 1000 times, now warped and crooked. Tight. Tasting of my own spunk.

Fuckall hot and hairy, hold back as whispers to make me pause. Hold the tit and the moment, poised, watching. Above and inside you, the spasm so subtle and stabbing.

The breeze comingles with the sticky drip across the silken sheets, forever blowing as it dries the cum. The stranger in the bed, lurking behind you in your memory silent. I fuck him as I imagine he does you, absent only in the moment when I quiet and wait. Listen to your absence.

Will this be the next time? This deep urge to emit the seed of wrath into your open love, sweating your asshole as the lick becomes an uncertain kiss.