Visceral Lit











{August 10, 2007}   Wank

This morning I thought of those of you, dear readers who are equipped with penises they love. The faceless man in the crowd who I sincerely hope springs to life when I press post. Who touches himself and perhaps coaxes his cock to twitch and spray.

I thought of your lips as they part, as you carry yourselves to greater heights. I thought of different hands on different cocks, some of you using two hands, some only one. I thought of the myriad of different ways I’ve already seen penises being pleasured by their most skilled masters and of the millions of more ways I haven’t yet watched.

I thought of your hips straining, the tendons standing out in your wrists, the tip of your cock emerging and submerging and I touched myself, too. Coaxing from my cunt no small handful of roller-coaster orgasms. I tugged at my clit and squeezed my eyes tight and pictured a variety of shapes, of sizes, of colours of cock, all bringing pleasure to those to whom they are attatched.

I thought of your orgasms and I cried out, abandoning all control with my last one, my hips collapsing exhausted into my chair.

I love writing for you.



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