I Remember #WickedWednesday

I remember what it feels like to press my flesh against yours.

Rolling over, pretending to reach across you, covering your body with mine.

I remember the way we fit together so completely.

Skin to skin, cell to cell, flowing into each other.

I remember the slickness of my cunt, the rising of your cock.

Rocking and rubbing, we find a rhythm.

I remember the sighs of contentment as I sink down, impaling myself.

We both relax into bliss, barely moving, savoring the moment.

I remember your mouth on my nipple, throat, neck, ear.

Leaning in, I beg for more with every cry, whimper, moan.

I remember the explosion of pleasure.

Grinding my pelvis against yours, clenching and clutching, pulling you deeper, squeezing harder.

I remember that I’m never really in control.

Bruised hips, swollen lips, resistance, acquiescence, giving myself over to the pleasure.

I remember you always take what you want.

Rolling over, finding a new position, fucked mercilessly.

I remember every sound.

Squeaks, groans. Whimpers, moans. A raging growl slashing the sex-filled air with release.

Oh yes, I remember. Which may explain why I just… need to….reach…over you….and…refresh my memory.

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Welcome to Wicked Wednesday. In my defense, I was trying to reach the alarm clock which sits on his nightstand. Could I help it if I decided straddling John Brownstone and rubbing my wet cunt against his cock was a much better idea? I didn’t think so, either. Okay, enough about me, go check out what other smutty writers are sharing this week. The prompt is “Recollection.”