Jan 232012
 

I don’t scream and yell or thrash about. I get quiet, still, and small.

There may be soft moans of frustration, small sweet noises of satisfaction as you stroke the spot that needs you the most. It’s not a steady climb, more like gentle pushes, little nudges, a little more, and a little more. There may be tiny squeaks of breath that escape despite my body turning stone. My throat nearly locks and my shoulders tense, and there are only small sighs as every muscle pulls tighter and tighter.

I don’t snap. I don’t have screaming orgasms. It’s more like gentle pushes forward until I’m almost at the peak of a hill. One little nudge sends me over, falling slowly at first, rolling, weightless. My neck and shoulders release and more and more of me lets go, my head falls back, eyes lose focus, lids close slowly. I fall faster now, growing heavier, softer, and loose. I can’t focus on anything but the feeling of being unlocked, letting go, of disassembling, of melting. The tethers that hold together the component parts of my mind and body dissolve, and pieces of me fly free and unburdened.

When I’m falling, disassembling, I don’t want to be held. I prefer to lie open and unrestrained. I like to feel your hand on me somewhere, just so I know you’re with me, watching to make sure I don’t break into pieces and float away.

  One Response to “small sounds”

  1. really it's a very seducing story..i like to read this kind of story..

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