Shall I ride you, astride you, mount you over your tail, my big bad wolf?
… and then his mouth is right there, panting hot against my skin, teeth biting at my mound, lips sucking and savouring. I feel a tug at my tutu, then it’s gone. Nothing now between me and my wolf’s voracious appetite. The hands on my breasts are fiercer now, possessing the abundance of yielding flesh as my nipples are sought out and seized between two fingers, sending searing red ribbons of pleasure down my body to where the tongue of my wolf is licking, licking deep, carnal in its fervour.
Eat me alive.
I give myself up to these two bodies against me, around me. Without vision to control my world, immersed in sensation, my skin begins to see. See the ravenous crimson of tongue deep inside me, the fingers pressed into the cream of my breasts. See the imprint of steel, red across my wrists. See with the pulse in my throat. Arms straining, I arch the small of my back against the unforgiving wood, the cross feeling like yet another presence, forcing my pleasure. The other man now grappling to hold my hips in place as I writhe. Teeth at my neck. Mouth devouring me.
No longer running. Caught in his paws. The wolf bites. Red Riding Hood screams.
Restrained, blindfolded, powerless to control how I am touched, I am released, paradoxically, to an ecstatic freedom. Releasing what I can hold onto no longer. The intensity of my orgasms, cresting on currents of liquid desire, are gushing from me. And the wild creature kneeling at my feet is drinking, drinking. And I am floating. My boundaries are gone in this heightened delirium of sensation. A foreign sound like a wounded bird escapes from me, a sound I’ve never heard myself utter before. As if from a distance, I hear this sound. Over and over again.
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