Sore

My Body is Sore.

My body is sore. 

Not sore from a strenuous workout at the gym or a million mile jog. 

My body is sore from him. 

My body is sore from the workout of riding his dick, bouncing ass on top of stiffness as his mouth bit my nipples.  My body is sore from having my legs twisted, spread, bent, knelt, and lifted as our bodies connected in hungry pleasure.  My ass is sore from being handled with care…and strength…and lust. My  jaw is sore from sucking his dick, enjoying each lick, each taste of sweet and sweat and me. My body is sore from his intense pounding, his deep stroking, and the tight grasp of his hands around my waist as he pulled me into him. Firm. Fast. 

My arms are sore from stretching to the floor, waist to face hanging off the edge of the bed. Arched back. Ass in air.   My body is sore from working my ass on his cock; grinding my ass on his cock till drops of sweat formed on my back. Drops of sweat wiped off by his hand, arousing me even more. 

My body is sore from the ceaseless orgasm he stirred within my flesh and the juices he liberated from my yoni, pressure being released as waters flowed down the inside of my thighs. My yoni is swollen with heat, sore from being fucked. Sore from the contracting of warmth around his dick. 

My body is sore from wrapping my legs around his waist, drawing him close as he lay stretched on top of me, arms reached out to grip the headboard as he triggered four letter words to spill out of my mouth with each hit of his dick.

My body is sore because he held back and held on till he couldn’t hold out any longer. He pulled out. He slowed down. He stilled my head. He built up, dick throbbing till he spilled himself out on my ass, hot sex on a platter.  

My body is sore from his encore performance a few hours later, when I reached for smooth resting penis and he transformed into my drug. 

My body is sore from being spent yet still aching for him to be inside of me again.