My tongue encircles the hard bud of a nipple, feels her heartbeat in the other. Always sensing. Weighing, kneading, and massaging the world in my hands. The most beautiful ephemeral pulse.
Her lips seem to flutter and bloom when I trespass further with every inch of me as she spreads open, mouth trembling on my earlobe in something that no longer resembles human language. It signals what’s to come.
A supernova flares beyond what our eyes reveal, the possessive squeeze and flood, the uncontrollable essence rocketing through her core.
It wasn’t meant to last long.
The first time never is.
