He whispers . . .

He loved her mind, her body, her entire being.

The others would always say, “You like that big cock?” while driving themselves filthily into her. This is why she couldn’t release herself to them, with them.

But this one, all he did was whisper, as he slowly penetrated her soul, as he fixed his eyes like laser beams on her, studying her every inch with his every inch.

He was mesmerized watching her chest rise and fall with desperation, her back arched to the most spectacular angle. He would sweep his fingers across her nipples, moist and tender, place his mouth on hers, their warm tongues dancing playfully and intimately, devouring the others’ taste as if they were the others’ last meal.

He is overwhelmed by this entrancing sight before him and the blood of his body is at war, fighting its rush between his heart and his firmness.

He doesn’t want their time to end, he wants to consume her, appetizer through dessert, every stage its own array of flavours that complement the one before. She is a feast for his eyes, for his body, and for the intensity of his exploding heart.

Their arms and legs are an erratic but gentle entanglement of passion. She trembles beneath him and looks into his eyes as if to warn him that she is losing ground, that she can no longer fight against the inevitable.

He pulls her close so their bodies, heated and heavy with a longing like no other join as one and with the bursting bloom of her beauty, he can’t resist this moment. “I love you”, he whispers.

She falls to pieces before him as he devours the exquisite vision of their falling in love all over again. It is a knowing that elevates them to a place no one else will ever know.