Funny how things change.
Squirting happens more often than not these days, with varying degrees of intensity. More often than not I am not fully aware of it immediately; it happens during a hard fucking and only until I withdraw and look down and see the soaked sheets am I aware. It is not all L, of course, I am rather copious when I cum so the aftermath between the two of us is rather messy.
Which I love, because the messier things are, the more I love it. I am quite in love with the rawness of it all, of all things sexual between L and I, the tastes and the smells, the sounds and the feelings.
It causes me no greater pleasure than to put L through a physical session and have marks and bruises appear on her ass. Last week I used her collar as a spanking implement and the buckle on it broke skin her ass, producing a small trickle of blood, which I happily licked up.
L will often times apologize for her wetness. She does get wet. Very very wet. Before I penetrate it her she will reach down and wipe out with her panties, removing as much of her wetness as she can and making things tighter. That is fine, I like her tightness, but I like her wetness even more and even more so when my head is in between her thighs and I am experiencing it on my tongue and mouth and fingers.
Because I enjoy those things. The rawness of it all.
It is why I like other things as well, the highly taboo things. Treating L to a golden shower, having her rim me, having sex on her period. Rawness mixed with passion and fire and hunger, fueled by cravings.
I like raw words. Cock and cum, fucking and sucking.
I care not if these cravings are normal; I have long since cared about what my desires mean about the nature of my soul. I am quite comfortable with myself and who I am and what I love, and what I love more than anything is to crawl into bed each and ever night with a companion who is just as raw as I am.
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