Little Flower
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Lightning Flower free porn video
Sheathed within you to the very root, even the slightest motion, the most minute shift of hips grinding, make me cry out your name. It's more than just a reflex for those specific syllables to form into a sound that helplessly escapes my throat in ragged needy breaths. It's beyond a prayer to some unseen faith.
It's like a primal incantation, a chant that calls to something so deep and ancient in human beings that we will never discover a name for it. The things that reach us the deepest, that tell another that we crave their very all.....
They need no name.
The mysterious current that desire sings through will always understand.
Your hips rock harder now. I reach out to you with all I am, every longing and pang infused within my touch. The way my back arches beneath you, driving hard and throbbing flesh even farther into your drenched depths. Occupying you to the hilt, but something more. Some private universe only we can inhabit and chart. A universe where even though I'm embedded inside your flesh, you have reached and claimed places in me more heated and intimate than what we discover within another's skin.
You cry out then and I know that sound all too well. I've met the inner peak, the almost too sensitive zone hiding in your slippery, tight tunnel that no one else can reach.
I know your body the way you know mine. We need no guide to one another, no demands or pleas to help us discover what signals every nerve towards inescapable bliss.
You match my motion, leaning down. Your hair becomes a beautiful and thick fragrant curtain cocooning our faces, framing us. Even in the dim light of the bedroom, all I see is you. A lone finger traces across my cheek, pure electricity traveling down to my jawline, before your lips envelope me in a hungry kiss. Even with the almost furious grinding, the kiss is slow, tongues achingly searching, so patient and thorough.
You've always said that tasting me is one of your favorite things. That you can still taste me many hours later, an amalgamation of our flavors.
I've never told you that it's the same for me. I can taste you where senses can't. I feel you in places with no name. I feel you in the same way the earth felt when being shaped. Absolute. Consumed by beauty, the earth quaking, and lightning storms. Unstoppable forces.
Forcefully gripping your ample cheeks, I thrust up to match your motion, trespassing further into you. And you don't relent, grinding even header, knowing what's to come.
And I can feel the inevitable, can feel the tide that is gathering. The way my body is beginning to helplessly tense beneath yours like the durable and taught string of a bow. You're akin to a beautiful instrument that I've discovered the most beautiful and complex chords to. The song we compose together is nothing short of a storm.
I am in the eye of the storm now.
With anyone else in the world, this would be something to fear, to seek shelter from. But I am your shelter and you always will be mine. It's one of the many things that I don't know how to confess, that I'm defenseless without you.
There is a palpable change in the air, something old and nameless that we can feel thrumming through our flesh and bones. Breaths between us are a gale force rippling across territory.
My face encased in your hair. Your arms stretched out across mine, fingers interlaced, squeezing like a rabid heartbeat. Your eyes, magnetic and radiant in the dim bedroom light, holding mine in a spell. Without words they tell me to not dare look away or blink now, to gaze into this raging inferno we have created.
And I feel the electricity here in us, beginning to spread like faint pinpricks just beneath the skin. They become tingles that are almost too much to take.
You are the tempest raging over me, a violent and gorgeous whirlwind of lighting, fiery rain, and trembling thunder.
The entire world has narrowed to a concentrated pinpoint and all I know is you. I am merely a passenger in the eye of the storm, begging to be devoured and swept away with you.
A sudden tightening, the possessive clasping of molten depths, pulsates around my swollen length. Hips not holding back,riding with all the force you can summon. You're whispering now, every word saturated in moans.
Telling me to finish inside you. To tremble and explode as I brand you with my seed.
The storm breaks and we reel over the edge, as you flood and clench around me.
With one final thrust upwards, my entire body stills as I erupt in what seems like endless thick hot ropes rocketing deep within you. My vision seems to flash into an absolute white for just a split second, but then is overtaken with your eyes so very close to mine. I see everything there as I empty into you this part of me that I will never surrender to another.
I see fireworks and rainbows and stars. I see electricity in its most chaotic and primal forms. I see hues and colors in you that I will hold on to forever even though I have no name for them. I don't care to give them one. The most beautiful things need no name.
And while holding you tightly to me, time begins to ebb away. I only recognize its passage in the smallest of details.
My name whispered over and over. A cold wind quietly blowing through the streets and swaying cold branches. I listen to the countless drops of rain, miniature exiles from the sky that collide with the earth on their own calming, unique chorus. I hear thunder roll now, a prolonged muffled boom bellowing across the sky. Lighting strobes outside, illuminating everything for brief seconds at a time in a blue-white glow.
Still impaled inside you, I'm drenched in your lustrous nectar and my eruption. Our hearts are concentrated thunder pressed together, calming so very slowly. You love keeping me inside as long as possible after, especially when on top. I've never asked why. We both know it's part of what binds us, the countless unspoken intimacies we share. The way your walls still sheathe, the heat that can never entirely ebb away, your weight on me, skin still feverish.... I want to be nowhere else.
Your head on my shoulder, eyes locked. I lazily run through fingers through locks that became tangled during our urgent grinding.
You trace my features in the dim light, a terrain that your fingertips have already learned by heart but still explored as if for the very first time.
My hands soon find their way to your back as they always do. That long plane of bare skin is a favorite place of mine to kiss and touch. Even in this position where I can't see, I know every curve and valley of your back as I begin to trace fingertips along it.
The patterns are normal at first. Up and down with little swirls. Moments later, I begin more complicated ones akin to topographical lines on maps.
You love the relaxing sensation, the unexpected paths I take. You smile and your eyes still the dark pools of my own in a gaze still dripping with the afterglow. You ask why I always do it like that after. I say it's because of the nickname I once gave you.
Lightning Flower.
It was because of something that I once read about how some people that have been struck by lightning experience a rare condition of Lichtenberg (named after the physicist) figures. They have also been referred to as skin feathering.
Some people that get struck come away with intricate and permanent tattoo-like patterns that resemble resemble lighting bolts scattering in different directions.
It's believed to be caused by capillaries rupturing beneath the skin due to the passage of the lightning current or the shock wave from the electrical discharge discharge flashing over the skin.
Your impression.... your being, is burned into me like that. I've always felt your presence and my body and soul is like a ceraunograph that recorded the thunder and lightning of the storms that make you.
That's why I call you Lightning flower.
I was struck by a powerful raw force that left a permanent and beautiful graph of you on me. I could never tell anyone but you something that personal. You always understand what I'm trying to really say.
And I suppose that, even though the way I'm touching right now will always be because I love soothing you after, making you feel safe, I also think of lightning. I wonder if I'll feel the impressions, the marks made in you by me, if I trace you long enough.
Your eyes are intense now, unblinking, expression neutral to the point where you could be thinking of and feeling anything. It scares me for a moment, an irrational fear that I may have said too much.
Time seems to just stop then in this silence until your eyes soften and your head rests in the hollow between my shoulder and neck, ear resting against my pulse.
You whisper that what I said was so damn beautiful, that you wish you had the words to tell me just how much.
But you tell me so much more...
The way I'm still inside you, essences absolutely mingled as our throbs still stay in a beautiful synch.
The way one of your hands slips into mine now and locks together so naturally like the rest of us does with each other.
The way your ear is still pressed so close to my neck and carefully listening to the warm rivers flowing beneath.
That tells me everything.
Nova
- 07.04.2022
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