An irrational sense of sadness pervades my senses as separation occurs. We are no longer joined, He and I, once again reduced to existing as 2 separate beings, the moments shared now resigned to memory, cessation of sensation a loss keenly felt. There’s an emotional attachment, you see, to this cock which has not long invaded and taken possession of my body, and which has now, once more, returned to it’s humble state.
His hands find mine, His breath heavy and ragged in my ear. His body lies protectively and possessively over mine, and I’m trapped, unable to move. We remain like that for a while, regaining our senses, still mentally, if not physically, connected. My shoulder is starting to ache due to the angle at which it’s lain, and I try to wriggle just enough to relieve the pressure.
“If you need me to move, just tell me, don’t just lie there like a martyr and take it”
His words have an immediate, and profound affect upon me, a sharp melancholic pang, and I sigh.
It isn’t martyrdom I seek by remaining underneath Him, there’s no higher purpose here, I simply wish to stay invested in the moment for as long as possible, so I may linger a while, Him omnipresent in my world.
I close my eyes, face down beneath Him, and squeeze His hand as hard as I can.
“No, honestly, I’m fine, there’s no need to move”
He gently kisses the back of my shoulder, and I breathe Him in.