Sexual Simplicity

I am not any man you’ve met before. Not necessarily better or worse, but unashamedly myself. For a strong, intelligent, sexual woman, I can be both a fantasy come true and a nightmare brought to life. I am invulnerable to manipulation, and immune to involuntary seduction. Mental or emotional games have no effect as I refuse to abide the rules, and I am impervious to instilled guilt. These are neither boasts nor bluster, as I claim only to be distinct, not superior. What separates me is my singular simplicity. I am a simple man, and that is absolute both in its accuracy and execution.  

That is not to say that I consider myself unimaginative or mundane, as I enjoy romance, the tease, titillation, pursuit… anticipation in all its varied forms. But then there is the After; the pure, unadorned Simple. The crowd has departed, the music silenced, and the lights dimmed. The door closes, the latch is slipped, and it’s simply two. Simplicity conceived.

Masks are removed and the flesh exposed, the visceral is unleashed. Secret cravings roam unfettered, cunning hungers prowl for satisfaction. “You” and “I”… “Him” and “Her”… “He” and “She”… cease to exist. Even “Man” and “Woman” fade, blending into a diaphanous haze.

All else ******** away by Simplicity, there is only ****, erect and insistent; *****, wet and accepting. Tongue, warm and slashing; Mouth, open and hungry. Lips, soft and eager; Nipples, hard and burning. Loins, full and aching; Hands, nimble and coaxing.

Faces glistening with nectar, tastes lingering on each tongue. Legs and arms clinging, drawing all deeply within. Every thrust more forceful than the last, each one absorbed greedily. Muscle and sweat fusing seamlessly with smooth, suppleness. Rhythms merge and needs coalesce. What was forbidden becomes expected; the dreamt, transformed into reality.

A unified rush towards perfection, joined limbs desperate for the end. Finally, consummation for, with, within, and without, bathed in hot streams of satisfaction, until still pools overflow with sated need. Lust and desire distilled, then poured across damp, twisted sheets. Aching, swollen, and drained, all that remains is raw, nakedness. Simplicity refined.

The door is cracked and artifice creeps back in, where it waits with patient anticipation for the latch to slide home again.
OverWritten OverWritten
46-50, M
3 Responses Dec 11, 2012

Followed Mahal here and wow. That was quite the seductive read. You have quite a way with words.

You are killing me right now. That was perfection. I've got that hot little pang now, thank you kindly.

Thank you. I rather like this one myself.

I should not have read this before I slept, as well as the other writings. My subconscious was invaded. Images flashing....restless sleep.

There is nothing simple about that! O.O
LOL Very nice writing...enjoyed every line, I have to read it again.

And yet I would contend that there is nothing simpler. In either case, I'm glad you enjoyed.