Languished Disintegration

Passion filled.

The air between her innocence and promise had been fouled. She knew his presence through a mask of smoke permeating the trenches of oxygen and carbon dioxide.  His clove cigarette stained the enamel she desired, but only moistened her lust more and more with every endorsed inhalation. He would be hers, but he hadn't a problem in the slightest.  The lights of the room brightened and conceded movement in her glare. Once his gaze favored her own, the game was on;  wayward rampants broke free in earnest.  Profligates of lascivious disorder, turbulent torrents, lude, carnal.  They stepped up to another, tracing caress about trembling silk.  She was off the ground, wrapped between nude and sheets in seconds. His hands were cautiously sure, elegantly tact, ingeniosly intricate, drastically jarring; an adjunt to his finesse was his hunger.  She struggled to moan, but tongue caught her own before voice could find reason. Lightly rapping and retreating at first, harmonious in slithering struggle.  Then disquiet grating down her throat.  She required him now.  His nails raked lightly patterns in semicircular motion encompassing her abdomen. She writhed as his tongue left her mouth and he began sentient, sensitive suckling at the skin of her jawline, down to where neck meets shoulder.  Lavishing collarbone in saliva and lips, sense was pinpointed through undulation. He yearned to feel the warmth of her moisture deep within. She was intent upon urgent compulsion. But this was more.  "Please, let me stroke you while my n*****s acquaint your teeth, plea-uggeeaggghh..."  He had entered her flushed, thermal cavern; she didn't expect him to be so long and discernible. She never expected him. A more than palpable amenity.  His command within her roseate interior allured control on whimsical highs, twixt timid thighs. Roll and sway became religion no longer uninvited. Like pistons he surged forth past the austerity, manipulating the gspot, eliciting guttural moans emenating from the place only he was allocated access.  Into the night, she came, and came. Through searing heat and fluctuated optics; blurred vision and quivering, vibrating lower halfs.  "I hear everything, those aren't voices in your head. They are endorphins, and I have presented you with life."  Into the night, further away from insightful awareness, they accented kinestetic faculty all in lieu of logical implication.

Author's Note

Have at it; tear into me as you see fit, I am trying to get better.