This piece is erotic literature, meant for readers 18+.
I love my work, but invariably, problems arise. New challenges I’ve not faced before. Interpersonal conflict. The demand to grow, the need to adapt and flow, the ever-present invitation to surrender to what’s so rather than what I imagine reality is, what I desire it to be.
Honestly, it fucking stresses me out sometimes. And I’m feeling it today. My neck is tight. My left shoulders are aching. I can feel a headache arising. My hips are tense. I try to relax, but my stomach is twisting and turning—I can still feel everything in that last meeting, the surprise and the irritation and the anger and the fear and the desire to control and the sadness and the grief. I need to do something to move it through my system.
I could go for a long walk, or take a hot shower. Tried and true. But then I hear U in the kitchen, doing dishes, and I know what’s next for both of us.
I walk downstairs to find U there in the kitchen. U are wearing a black tank top and shorts. No bra. The golden light of the fading day hits Ur brown hair, messy but gorgeous as U scrub the plates and the forks and the knives left over from lunch.
U smile, greeting me as I come in. God, I love Ur smile. It’s the most authentic smile I’ve ever seen—radiant, genuine, bright—and I love U anew every time I see it.
I breathe a little deeper, feel a little better already, just for seeing U—calmer, more grounded. But all of that tension is still there, the confusion racing in my mind, the hurt and the pain and the worry circulating my emotional body alongside the blood in my veins.
U can tell immediately that something’s up, that I am agitated. Where I am contracted, U are spacious—where I am small and grouchy and irritable, U are Love herself.
Without words, we transition. Suddenly, there’s a chair behind me, and I am sitting in it, and U are behind me, massaging my shoulders, kneading the tension and knots out of the flesh of my back.
I’m really not sure how it happens, it’s so seamless—and I’m not sure whether it’s my request, my need, or Ur earnest desire to help me, to see my heart unburdened. U care about me, and I want U to care for me, to love me, to show up for me—somehow, my desire is also ur wish, my need also Ur fulfillment.
Also—we’ve done this before. U love taking care of me, and U love taking care of my cock. I always love it, of course, but today, I need U to.
I start talking, sharing everything that’s on my heart, explaining all of the context, guiding U through the twists and turns of what happened objectively and how it made me feel subjectively, narrating my worries and fears about what’s to come.
U listen patiently, still massaging my shoulders, even though I’m babbling, even though there’s a manic intensity in my words, even though the situation I’m describing is weighty and U care for the people I’m talking about. Somehow, this comes easy to U—somehow, what is heavy for me is light for U, like a massive object suddenly floating in space, unbeholden to gravity.
U walk around me, and kneel in front of me. U reach Ur hands into my pants, pulling out my cock, and wrap Ur hand around it. U are careful not to interrupt me. U are still listening. It’s not that U are trying to distract me, or to take me away from sharing what’s bothering me. It’s not that U are impatient, or don’t have the emotional space to be with what I’m feeling. Quite the opposite. U are simply giving my body love in a way that it adores, in way that I need right now, in a way U love to give me.
I don’t know why it is, but having my cock stroked like this while I talk about what I’m worried about, or excited about, or while I’m thinking something through, is such a love language for me. God forbid U ask me a question while stroking my cock, or sucking it—that would end me. The combination of receiving pleasure in my body, being loved interpersonally, and having the space to be heard conceptually, in words, in the realms of significance—that is unparalleled.
It usually takes me ten, twenty, thirty minutes to share all that’s on my heart. It was hard to accept at first, that U wouldn’t mind—that U wouldn’t get impatient, or frustrated, or bored—or that U wouldn’t be offended that I like this so much, receiving pleasure while I talk or vent—but U really don’t mind, not at all. U are happy to sit there, knelt in front of me, and stroke my cock. U love playing with my cock, and U love me.
Eventually, I’ve finished sharing everything. I don’t really need reflections or advice, not this time. Just saying everything aloud, being heard, having someone who loves me to listen closely and receive me as I am, in all my complexity, has already been enough. As far as what’s next—it’s obvious what to do, now that I’ve thought it all through. In the meantime, for the moment: U are here, and I am with U. And now I can really lean into receiving the pleasure U are giving me.
Ur strokes have been gentle so far, Ur touch light—but now, U can really take hold of my cock, and be a bit firmer, and more vigorous as U pump my cock with Ur fist.
U cup my balls with one hand, and run Ur hand up and down the shaft of my cock. I run my hand to Ur shirt, feeling Ur breasts through Ur tank top. U smile, and U take the straps of Ur top off, unleashing the flesh of Ur tits for me to feel directly, the full glory of Ur breasts for my eyes to drink in their entirety.
I love everything about Ur body—Ur smile, Ur eyes, Ur eyebrows, Ur lips, Ur hands, Ur ass, Ur legs—but I love Ur tits most of all.
U know how, as a parent, U aren’t supposed to have favorite kids? How all of Ur kids are Ur favorite? But maybe how, buried somewhere in the innermost secret caverns of Ur heart, U do in fact have a favorite kid?
Yeah, well, I love all breasts. I really do. All sizes are good with me: small, medium, big, huge. I am a no-discrimination breast-enjoyer. And… Ur breasts are just the right size. Perfect. Absolutely perfect. They are the absolute most perfect breasts I have ever seen or felt. I love Ur tits. I worship Ur tits. I love them so much.
They are large, but not too large—enough flesh for U to feel, or for them to bounce—with beautiful brown nipples, and areolas that are just the right size, a generous circle around the beautiful tip of Ur nipples. Looking at them, I can’t help but imagine a thousand different ways I want to play with them. I want to suck Ur tits gently; I want to fuck them as U squeeze them together; I want to grab them from behind as I plow my cock into U.
U are still stroking my cock, and he’s starting to get impatient. U’ve been playing with him for quite a while, and there’s so much pleasure building in him. It’s tempting to cum right there and then, to unload into Ur hands and finish it right there. But neither of us have had our fill of pleasure, and I have a different idea in mind.
“Please suck my cock,” I beg of U, whimpering in my voice, squirming in my hips. “Please.”
I know U love to suck my cock, and while I’m sometimes shy to ask, U are always ready to comply, happy to put me in Ur mouth.
As soon as I ask, the head of my cock is in Ur mouth. U swirl Ur tongue around the shaft of my cock, and begin bobbing up and down, making my cock feel good with all of Ur skill.
U look up at me with the most adoring eyes. It’s impossible not to let go of all that’s on my heart as U do, to surrender to the present moment, this precious moment, where my cock is in your mouth, where U are looking at me with all of the love in your heart, all of the love in the world, a manifestation of God’s love for us such that She would create the universe at all.
U could suck my cock for hours, if I let U, if I asked, if U wanted. I know because U have, many times. U love sucking my cock, and U love giving me love. But that’s not what I want today. I want to kiss U, to make love to U. I pull U up to sit in my lap.
U push Ur chest close to me and press Ur breasts in my face. My head and lips rush to greet Ur tits, to kiss Ur nipples as if they were Ur lips, to suckle at them, to receive their comfort.
U run Ur hands through my hair gently, caressing me with such tender affection, and lean in further to kiss my forehead, to smell my hair. The touch of my lips feels pleasant to Ur nipples, but U enjoy my desire even more, and the sweetness that moves between our hearts as I knead your breasts with my hand, as I need Ur love in my heart.
I feel a deep relief, as if I were a newborn once more, nursing at my mother’s breast, and all is right and well with the world.
Inside every grown man, no matter how large or how masculine, there is a little boy who just wants to be taken care of, who just wants to be loved. It is a rare woman who gets to see this little boy come out, who gets to truly love him.
Sitting there in my lap, U reach down with Ur hand to grab my cock, and start teasing Ur clit and the lips of Ur pussy with its head. U are very wet—I can feel the warmth and wetness of Ur juices as my cock slides against Ur pussy lips.
I’m not sure whether I thrust upwards, or U sit downwards, but in an instant, my cock is inside U, just a little bit to start, and then U have taken me fully within the folds of Ur pussy.
We sit there for a moment, together, relishing in the feeling of being right next to each other, right up against each other, inside of one another—so close in body, so close in heart—and so much pleasure, now in this moment, and boiling inside both of us, waiting to seize up, tip over, surge and capsize.
Then U begin to ride me, swaying up and down, milking my cock with Ur pussy, pleasuring Urself with my body, fucking Urself in just the right spots.
U ride my cock for quite a while, but eventually, U tire, and I need a break—I still don’t want to cum just yet. U slow down, and kiss my forehead, my lips, my cheeks. U take my hand, and guide me up the stairs as we move to the bedroom. U flop Ur body playfully onto the sheets, and lift Ur arms like U are offering me a hug—and U are, U just want my cock inside U again, too.
I get onto the bed, kissing the sides of Ur head just behind Ur ears, guiding my cock with my hand back into Ur slit. U moan—somehow U’ve missed my cock, even though it’s just been a moment since I’ve been inside U, and Ur pleasure has increased for having to wait for me.
U wrap ur arms around me, Ur hands on my neck—caressing me gently, pulling me into U. U need me as much as I need U. U wrap ur legs around mine, Ur hips squeezing me into U, as I thrust my cock into U—gently at first, but deep. Rhythmically, we move our bodies together, a poem arising from the dance of our limbs and the song of our hearts.
I love being right up next to U, feeling Ur breasts right under my chest, feeling my weight on top of U, leaning into U—all as my cock delights in making love to U, as Ur body begs me to fuck U deeper, faster, harder.
God, I need to cum inside U. I need to fill U with my cum, to know that my seed is buried in Ur pussy. And U need it, too. At this point, U are screaming, moaning, begging—”fuck, fuck, fuck—please—please, please fuck me, please cum inside me, please, I need it, please cum inside me, please give me Ur cum, please cum inside my little pussy.”
U have one hand on my hair, tugging at it—the other hand is on my ass cheeks, squeezing with all Ur might, as if U are trying to push me inside U even deeper, as if U are trying to bury my seed as deep in the soil of Ur pussy as U can.
Finally, my cock explodes, throbbing, pulsing, cum shooting out into U. As I orgasm, U do too, and we cry out together, making a sound between us that has no name but is a kind of moan and sigh and wince of pain and relief and joy and pleasure all in one. I collapse into U, my body falling into Urs—a relief I have always sought and dreamed of, a joy I will never tire of.
We rest there for a long time, our bodies intertwined—the soft aftermath of our gentle love, the pleasure undulating in waves through our bodies—the onset of sleep, and dreams—all while I am inside U, all while Ur heart is next to mine.
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