a XXX apology

Dear _o_,

I AM SORRY IF I OFFENDED YOU by c*mming all over your face.

When I asked you if we could take it to your balcony, I'll admit: I should have pulled my d*ck out of your mouth to let you respond. Instead, I throbbed, I thrust, I got lost in the cool pink pool sloshing around me.

If I could only find a language to describe how it feels when I grow inside of you... All I can say is this: My hands were tied when some dark, muscled 3-legged animal yanked the back of your head and dragged you, gagging, out onto the wooden open-air deck in the hazy afternoon light.

Clouds gathered as I stood tensing on the patio chair above you. My veiny hands engorged with power in each dark stroke that threatened to choke you. I felt like G_d. When a lone drop of spit glimmered before trickling down your cheek, I lost it.

I wanted sweet saliva streams running down your clavicle into the burnt caramel valley between your breasts. I wanted rivers to divide and join, unnamed, down the floodplain of your abdomen, meeting at the saltwater swelling between your thighs. I wanted fluids everywhere. I wanted you covered in rain.

I ached, I groaned, I arched my back in a wild f*cking of your mouth, but the sky would not break. I withdrew my dripping shaft, thwacking it back-&-forth across your face until you glistened. I wanted your hair, your eyes, your nose cologned in my musk. And when you clenched your eyes in a passing veil of innocence, even you would have been unable to resist leaning down into the inviting pinkness of your mouth. But I crossed the line when I made it rain:

I spit.

Heaven rumbled with thunder as I spit. Fully engorged and throbbing, I spit. I reentered you and beat the back of your flooding throat till your stretched pink lips overflowed. Till our liquids dripped in spectral webs onto the wrought iron chair. Till our warm fluids pooled and stained the yellow pine deck.

I did hear the car horns. I could feel their eyes moving all over our flesh. I got carried away. You must know that a Leo will perform when given a stage. I just wish I could find the language to describe the sloppy sensuousness which your pinkness is. In the ephemeral light of that moment - the print of my d*ck in and out of your right cheek, spit racing down your straining neck, your damp black mess of hair - I shuddered. I couldn't control myself. I exploded.

At least I warned you it was coming.