It has been a very long time since I've allowed myself to feel the presence of another inside my soul. The damaged done by previous suitors has left irrevocable wounds to a heart that used to be an oceans floor, now a streams adjacent corner. The caged I've placed around my heart suggests possibilities of entry depending on how well skills possessed by a cat burglar proved clever enough to open. The last person I tried to be present with had the presence of a divorced man looking to replace what he imagined from the leftings of his unchecked lingering divorced energy, a deserved second place seat while carrying out his boyish fantasies ridiculed from the laten marriage he sorely missed.
Dating is a childish game these days. What once was is no longer. Honesty isn't praised nor is transparency. For a demisexual sapiosexual human female who desires to cum heavily in someone's heart with full trust and adoration is a “wife's” duty not companion, so I'm told. I'm not groomed for casual sex as a handshake. The rivers edge into a gulfs mouth is where I sit.
I want to cum hard in someone's heart. I want to fuck their minds eye and make it twitch. A partnership in unsolved murderous joy filled with rapacious gratuitous pleasures other worldly. Sex?! Boring. Okay, okay, sex is amazing but empty when it's just sex. Where's the rest of it? Where's the connection? If it's only in those few stolen moments with strangers time and time again, I'd rather get paid for selling my body if the satisfaction took me to the ecstasy of connection but it doesn’t. Fucking has its place but after sharing a life with someone, sharing your being with someone, sharing the most intimate parts of you with someone …fucking takes a backseat in the dark corner with a sugar cookie (not worth chocolate chips). I want to cum hard in someone heart! There’s something to be said about sharing in ways only connection allows the flow of give and take.
Fucking for fucks sake, a notch on the belt, a story to be replay around the cocktail hour doesn’t have the luster it once did. Maybe because I am a woman not a girl who has desires and needs held in a higher regard than just some boo-thang. Partnership. Lovers even! Fucking, sex, making love, humping, bumping uglies( a term that should have never surfaced) the beast with two backs. All of these terms describe an act that should be considered devotion yet, and sadly, it has been reduced to a mere handshake. Being devoured between the devils lips under a sunset sky rapidly diving into the night overlooking care and responsibility solely for the pleasure to be discovered in an orgasmic trance is an anthem waiting to be sung over a loudspeaker.
Cuming in someones heart isn't just about gratuitous sexual satiation, it carries an essence of it's own. Thinking of times when I held the gaze of a gangster for an entire summer who's appetites span a universes hunger, brings me to my knees. His devotion to cuming in someones heart is unmatched, or the season when I took the highest ranking freemason into my bedchamber who's magic spilled through every orgasmic convulsion making me speak in tongues. Both parties gave illusions to cuming in heart chambers, not the full heart, just as arresting. Having the opportunity to cum is a dealers choice of who and when. Given the gift of cuming in someone's heart as a partner, companion or a lifetime soulmate brings an element unspoken. Influencing someone's state of being is an artform, much like sex, creating something from nothing and verse visa. Seeing through windows deeper than Atlantis pondering the longevity of forever morphing into and out from existence is profound. That's what cuming in someone's heart can do.
How I long to be drunk on the spiced lips of lingering kisses specifically made. Drowning in limbic sounds of touching tasting joyous rapture compounded in visual stimuli simultaneously holding breath. My legs quiver in it's mention.