Onomatopoeia

The hum of the Crickets, as the last throws of summer cling to cooling evening air. These moments in our minds, the mere mention of this touch that will make flesh weak, the modicum of self-control we hold about to merge into this night.

The groan of the bed as the weight of our bodies moving together bears its force against the joints of the timber.

I growl as your skin touches mine. The guttural tones of my voice give away the growing desire in my groin as you beguile me with your girlish charms. The garish light growing softer by the minute as you gather my arousal and guide me into your glorious sex.

You drip, as your desire is doused by my ever growing depth inside you. Deliberately denying you the entire length at my disposal, damning your entrance from becoming the deluge as my now hard flesh destroys your decorum.

You splash upon said flesh and the sheets below us. The sheer force of my erection pushing you apart. You show me little resistance as your heated sodden flesh relishes the thickness of my lust for you.

The thump of our bodies as they come together. 

The slap of our skin as this sex reaches its searing point of sensual yet visceral abandon. Standing at the precipice of greatness. 

I roar my approval as your breasts clap together, swaying beneath you as thrust after thrust of my masculinity continues its unrelenting assault on your body.

Like a smack to the jaw, our climax shocks us both to our very cores. My cock erupts its precious seed within you, rocking us further still as we are taken aback at the sheer mind numbing power of our fucking.

You hiss your approval as our sexual masterpiece comes to its sobering conclusion. The vociferous cries of your pleasure have filled this here room.  Through clenched teeth you sigh as the stunning sounds of our union abate into the silent aftermath that befalls us.

As we lay there quietly, I hear your body purr. 

We are broken but not as we quietly murmur our minds to their ease. Malevolence towards the outside world and the throes of discontent it holds are no longer present in our thoughts, in this space, in this time.

The whisper of the evening breeze, kisses the window to this room, as our voices have fallen to a scant remnant of their sounds only moments ago. Side to side, face to face we see each other. Hold each other. Love each other.

Silent now. Only the flutter of eyes that blink ever slower, slower, slower.