Tiny quivers, deep inside,
Aftershocks of our love-making,
Still moving through me.
I press my thighs together,
Holding in the memories of you.
Later, when I am alone,
I can spread my legs wide,
And remember how they felt around you.
My thighs locked around your waist,
My nails scratching down your back,
Your hips pushing your dick deep,
Filling me with your cum,
Giving my body something of you to keep,
So I can feel you when I am alone.
When the last vestiges of the sunset dissolve into navy,
I slowly undress,
Touching my body in the places where you struck me,
Marking me as yours.
My skin a little tender to the touch,
Bruises that only I can see with my fingertips.
My smile grows as my own hands journey lower,
To the place between my thighs,
Where I seek our truth.
I relive the slow burn,
The build-up of heat,
My toy, poised just right,
The one you make me use to push my limits.
You keep demanding more from me,
Again…
Again…
You’re not done.
I squirm with pain and pleasure,
While you kneel by my face.
My mouth so hungry for your dick,
My hunger for you sharpening with every breath,
I want nothing more than to taste you,
On my lips, on my tongue, down my throat,
My tongue rising to meet you,
Aching for your taste just out of reach.
I’m trapped in place by your commands to keep cumming.
I feel the hot gushing between my thighs,
Soaking the sheets beneath me,
Leaving behind a small part of who I am,
Marking the moment with a fragment,
My nipples, my clit, every inch inside,
Have shattered into a million shards of glass,
Cascading over us like a fine mist.
You tell me I’m your good girl,
You tell me I have done you proud,
And then you show me.
Beautiful and hard and silky to the touch,
I am finally rewarded with you.
I run my greedy tongue across my lips,
Savoring the cream you have so generously given me.
I fill my mouth with your essence,
Lingering there, so I won’t forget.
I relive all of this,
While keeping my thighs spread,
While touching my pussy,
Hidden beneath my blankets, lost in it all.
I slide my fingers inside,
Pretending they are you.
And since I cannot have you
Every morning and every night,
I can dip my fingers inside
And touch the echoes of us.
— LM D’Lishes, 09/04/2026
The Blind Writer 