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What It Feels Like to Have My Face Between Your Thighs When You Come

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Like what I imagine it must feel like

to work your whole life to be the first person 

to ever travel through a wormhole


and you spend decades in a ship hurtling to the farthest reaches of space -

lost in the endless expanse of the universe - 

just to reach it.

and after a stretch of time that could've been a moment 

and could've been a life

you finally see it in the distance

and you're not sure if it's a dream

but the next day, it gets closer.

and then the next day, it gets closer again

and the next day, you can start to feel its tug - light, almost a brush, like a lover's fingertips on fallen strands of hair

and the next day, you start to really the feel the pull

and you start to forget where you are

and who are

and every moment before this one collapses

and this sheer, instinctual force pulls you in like a come-here fingercurl

and it's there.

and the exact edges of its pulsating rings are all you see and all you know

and you're there. and your edges are bleeding into their edges.

and nothing else is, except you and this force and this tug

as you fall into the wide and endless stream

of your heart's most impossible dream

that's what it's like

with my face between your thighs when you come


the moment you

thrash beyond instinct or control 

and just to keep my tongue where it needs to be - 

just to keep your back arched how it has to arch - 

just to keep your fingers curled into those bed sheets - 

I curl mine into your skin, 

for dear life 

and the flesh and bruises and sweat and hairs and expanse of it all is all I see

and all I know

and I surrender myself into the buck of your hips

and the cries of your chest

and the gravity of your ecstacy

I surrender into the irresistable pull of it all

I surrender, lost, and still diving,

into your love, at its edge

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