Timothy

Tick Tock Tithes

Tick Tock Tithes

The leather and chain swing rocked and doused a candle sending it careening across the floor, my not long enough tortured bottom, wrapped as she is in satin corset and copper laden leash giggled, just a f lensing strike of leather whips lashing out across her arched back and the giggle turned to a shriek. I kissed her hard, my tongue searched for hers, her teeth grinding on mine as we both growled at one another. I chewed gnawingly on her lips, then her collar bones, exposed as they were, how I enjoy them, her squirming and pulling at the restraints and look of both pleasure and pain and frustration wafting from her eyes, the spitting of gleeful tantrum an intoxicant if nothing else, harrowed my senses.

It wasn't until sunrise when I let her down, she was tired, her body ached, her slippery thighs swamped over my legs as she pulled her self up on top of me as I lay panting, straining for some breath. a knock out, as it were, is she. wasted as I am, I am a slave apparently to her unsubtle attentions, and I scratched her back with my nails, and she arched her back, her breasts spreading off her ribcage like a painting stretched across the canvas that was her torso, and I licked, and nibbled and bit, and chewed and gnawed and licked some more, kissing and indulging, and when she was done riding me, she collapsed on top of me. shortly thereafter we both slept, the sheets and bed damp from stem to stern, aft and fore, there was no safe haven, no seeking for a dry spot, it was all wet, a high sea mixed with sex, blood, tears, cum and sweat, mixed deliriously into that sweet, succulent mix of heaven.

And so we slept. I woke alone of course, her having long left for school or work, but as per usual, a note, with what I suppose was a kiss on my forehead before she left. the note read as it always did, "tempus fugit, manet amor".