Raz
Bluelighter
disclaimer: I am SO NOT a necrophiliac, lol...I just wanted to see if I could write something like this which is still erotic as much as it's disturbing. Constructive criticism is very welcome!
I knew you liked me, I could tell. I knew from the way you looked at me, with those big black eyes, shiny black pools that I could gaze into forever. You hadn't been asleep long then, you were scared that you'd lose your connection with us. But I knew better...I knew you were special, that you'd hold on no matter what.
I remember the first time I touched your hair, and I marvelled at how soft it was, how light. I wanted to stroke your hair forever, I knew you enjoyed that. I knew it made you feel safe to have someone touch you.
The touch of your skin...I apologise because I know this is vulgar and you're better than this, but straight away it gave me a hard-on. That cold tightness...I remember the first time I saw you naked and ran my fingers along your skin from behind your ears to your neck and across your breast; I thought you would like it if I played with your nipple, I saw that in a movie...but you didn't. I learned to touch you the way you like it, I learned the parts of you that you wanted me to touch.
The inside of your elbow and the back of your knee and the soft pads of the soles of your feet. These are the places I learned to love, these are the places you loved me to learn. I remember the first time my tongue met your navel, and the icy chill that set cold fire to me...your indulgent wide-eyed staring at the ceiling while my mouth kissed every part of you. My mind running wild with possibility and with devotion to you while you played me to make me love you more.
I worshipped you then. There is no inch of your body I have not met with my tongue or my fingers or any other part of me. You drove me wild then with your detached affection, the exotic blue sheen of your flesh. You became a goddess to me then, and I worshipped you with everything I had.
...I suppose you have tired of me. Your arms are purple now and bloated, and your exotic black eyes shallow and sunken. I'm sorry that I could not keep you, but I know this is for the best. I know you are meant for better than me, and it will be a long time before I know the pleasures you have earned. I want to thank you for letting me be your supplicant. I want you to know that your place is always reserved in my heart, and the smell of meat will always bring me back to you.
I love you for what you have given me.
I knew you liked me, I could tell. I knew from the way you looked at me, with those big black eyes, shiny black pools that I could gaze into forever. You hadn't been asleep long then, you were scared that you'd lose your connection with us. But I knew better...I knew you were special, that you'd hold on no matter what.
I remember the first time I touched your hair, and I marvelled at how soft it was, how light. I wanted to stroke your hair forever, I knew you enjoyed that. I knew it made you feel safe to have someone touch you.
The touch of your skin...I apologise because I know this is vulgar and you're better than this, but straight away it gave me a hard-on. That cold tightness...I remember the first time I saw you naked and ran my fingers along your skin from behind your ears to your neck and across your breast; I thought you would like it if I played with your nipple, I saw that in a movie...but you didn't. I learned to touch you the way you like it, I learned the parts of you that you wanted me to touch.
The inside of your elbow and the back of your knee and the soft pads of the soles of your feet. These are the places I learned to love, these are the places you loved me to learn. I remember the first time my tongue met your navel, and the icy chill that set cold fire to me...your indulgent wide-eyed staring at the ceiling while my mouth kissed every part of you. My mind running wild with possibility and with devotion to you while you played me to make me love you more.
I worshipped you then. There is no inch of your body I have not met with my tongue or my fingers or any other part of me. You drove me wild then with your detached affection, the exotic blue sheen of your flesh. You became a goddess to me then, and I worshipped you with everything I had.
...I suppose you have tired of me. Your arms are purple now and bloated, and your exotic black eyes shallow and sunken. I'm sorry that I could not keep you, but I know this is for the best. I know you are meant for better than me, and it will be a long time before I know the pleasures you have earned. I want to thank you for letting me be your supplicant. I want you to know that your place is always reserved in my heart, and the smell of meat will always bring me back to you.
I love you for what you have given me.
)
