Of sex, lions, kings and the food of love

This man slipped inside my skin and seemed to fill every space…and I delighted in him being there. We’d had one night… all night… and like hungry mountain lions who had not eaten through the long winter, now feasted on flesh and blood. We ate and ate, ferocious, yet pacing ourselves, expanding, reveling, savoring, and roaring to the wind, so filling the heavens with the sounds of our gratefulness.  No one could take away our prize. We had no fear of loss and so tore at that fresh carcass again and again with joy.

I saw in him an earthy nobility. He was my Assyrian King and I, his harems Queen. My king, My Lord, and worthy of my gracious submission. And then, he was gone, for three long weeks. I, powerless to contact him, and he, away on the hunt, had chosen not to contact me.  For the first week I quelled the rising panic, the flighty girl fears that wanted to shout and scream, extricating each dark thought diligently as thorns in my flesh…”Patience my lovely, patience.” He was tender, wary, shy. He knew hurt, but I knew love, and love prevails. Maybe it is a test, his way of seeing what stuff I am made of, but whatever it is, now I am content to let it be and wait.

And so I am left with dreams and this story until he returns.

Tonight, I awoke early, as I do, to write, while the stars are still bright in their blackness. I dream of his body, naked as I press mine behind him and nestle in, running my hands down his chest and over his strength.

We are in his little kitchen, sizing up the produce, considering our meal. I had meandered through the shopping isles, with no plan but the inspiration of love hunger, selecting whatever gave me that divine spark and joy. I arrived with my bulging bags, no fanfare, and then, without a word, held him and breathed him in deeply with my face pressed into his chest. What a moment to savor…and I smelt his ripeness as fresh as the pineapple I had selected just moments before.

I undressed myself, then him and took my fill of his dark eyes and he mine.  I think I answered his questions because I felt the tremble as that wild, untamed part of him volunteered his captivity and our nakedness spoke of deeper things.

“I brought food, are you hungry?”

“Ravishing.”

“Then lets prepare to devour…”

And so we were in his little kitchen and I savored every moment. “Smell the pineapple, it’s divine…cut into its flesh and taste its juice.” As he grasped the knife I kissed his back and fondled his balls and ran my hands over his loins. I wet the fold between thumb and finger with my tingling, salivating liquor and with silky softness enfolded the thick tip of that stallion cock of his. Already I longed to have it in my mouth, but not yet…remember, patience my lovely, patience.

He presented my mouth with its first taste, and the sweetness made me swoon. I bit and juice gushed in an explosion of heady delight. I fished through the bags for the crisp red fujis and plump hearted strawberries and laid them before his knife. More of my mouths juices and a fist full of cock kept me occupied as I anticipated new sensations. This time a strawberry was served with his mouth as a platter. He grasped my buttocks and lifted me high so that his moist warm cock nestled into my own soft moistness then slowly filled its deep places. The pleasure of it filled every inch of my body in a way no other pleasure ever could. God I was so hungry, wild with ravenous desire. “Fucking hell.” I know ladies are not suppose to swear, but a good cock brings it out of me. “Fucking, fucking, fucking hell,” was his response… so I guess he doesn’t mind. “Oh, I’ve missed you,” I hiss, “I’ve missed you sooo much. You were cruel not to call and leave me for so long.” He doesn’t answer, but I don’t need him to. I sink back into the pleasure of it all and take my fill. He carries me to his bed, to his throne of love and my Assyrian king delights in his Queen and I, worship him.

I guess I am slain, pierced through like the lioness at the hunt of the King, but I give my life gladly and surrender to his spear. It can enter me deeply and penetrate my heart till he has my life’s blood at his feet. And I am content to be his prize and adorn his courts with my skin.

~ by Songbird on August 19, 2009.