gluttony · lust · wrath

Pure

I think it was that moment I was holding your ankle, white knuckle tight, up near my head.

The sweaty grip giving me the leverage we both craved, we both breathlessly demanded. “Oh, fuck.” was the phrase that left your lips. Not a scream, but an epiphany of sorts. A throaty acknowledgement of an overwhelming desire met. At the edge of the bed, your leg in the air and a sudden lusty rhythm created by my flesh into yours.

It was more than just the plunging depth or exquisite angle, it was the raw power, the forceful nature of my unyielding assault on your sensibilities. The animalistic desire in which you accepted me, pulled me in. This was pure fucking. Pure.

And we lost ourselves to all space and time in that primal moment.

Yeah, it was that moment.

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