*EDITOR’S NOTE – The following pieces are considered mature content.
You’re getting me started, teasing me with promises of pleasure.
Soft yet urgent kisses land wet on my mouth, sliding past moans escaping,
A tingling begins as the trail of your tongue traces a path of whispering
Licks around protruding lips, those up and down.
You don’t know me yet, but my thing is pressure.
Build me up just so until I’m ready to let go.
Stop. Listen to me. Do this, please…
Dig your thumbs into me, pressing your hands forcefully into my skin.
Mount me and take me with hungry insistence like a rag doll.
Cover every square inch of my body with yours, pushing me down.
Make it hard for me to breathe as you expel my air.
The weight of your body makes me struggle dangerously for more.
I want to feel your dominion over me, propelling me closer to release.
It’s hot, and it’ll get hotter; let’s burn together.
Caress my tongue with yours
And whisper your desires to my being.
Let your legs wrestle mine
While my arms discover your back,
Feel down to the curve of your ass,
Then find the moisture between my legs
Awaiting your entry.
You’ve touched every inch of my mind, body, and soul,
Let’s come together.
Romance at Noon
You were amazing.
Are you still, I wonder?
My last memory of you was in an abandoned house, shedding my leggings and panties, lifting my green-striped midi-dress above my head, and having you remove my bra deftly with your warm hands. The room was bare except for a carpet. We tumbled down to the floor, but your arm skilfully braced me from harm. My legs splayed open, urging a meeting of the minds. Your eyes focused, and your smile acknowledged the next move. I gasped as your tongue caressed my hard clit, and your fingers massaged all the pleasure points of my vulva. I came quickly, riding out every wave of pleasure you gave me. It didn’t take long before your cock was inside of me, thrusting hard and taking me as yours until we both came. I’ll never forget feeling so exhausted from our encounter, not even wanting to pee afterward.
Please, still be amazing.
I am tired of waiting. Whir….
Her mother calls her a free spirit, and her friends call her wild, but she thinks she’s oddly normal with her blue hair. Skye is 25 years old, and figuring things out. Pronouns are She/Her. This is Skye Genteen’s first feature on The Short of It.
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