Red Dress
I saw you...

Cloaked in the shade of a red dress.
Hidden behind radiant cloth that simply served to obscure my view.

Better yet---
I...see... you...
... naked.

Revealed as though previously denied me.

I.. see.. you...
...laid bare for mine eyes as I visualize the warmth of your inner thighs.

Removed are its beautiful rouge hues as it lay strewn across the floor of my bedroom.
Refracted light, reflecting off freshly freed flesh…
Having been liberated from the constraints of claustrophobic clothing and cramped confinement…

And I won’t deny it

I see it…
Pleading for attention…
And it is given, as proper placement of wet kisses and a firm caress.
Holding in hand breasts, and back, and ass with unapologetic affection.

6-inch heels remain in play as they make possible perfect angles and aligned anatomic access…
As vein-laced thick-ness remains ingratiated with precise penetration and phallic placement.
9 and a half inches entering from a flawless vector of 45 degrees as your body heat exceeds the recommended 98.6 degrees.

I saw you…
In THAT red dress.
Pleased with the task at hand of undressing your preconceptions,
I lead in with the deliberate intent of taking everything that you THOUGHT you knew…
And bending you into positions originally intended for the karma sutra.

This is that time you will never forget.
In fact… you will re-live it…
Over…
and over…
again.


This is that point when memories begin to blend in to what’s happening…
And you can’t tell whether you're remembering or living-- in-- this moment.

Tempo shifts as shit gets thick.

Our hearts pound through our chests and breath’s held in check by a steady flow as we move up on the down beat…
Holding for half note…
Before moaning on with a deep stroke.


Movements become music and I feel your pulse through my instrument.
Veins throb and walls tighten when the cadence of our arrangement continues to hit.
Gliding towards and inevitable end kept distance by insistence as you whisper....

“Oh Shit! This --- feel --- so --- good.”

As well it should.

Otherwise, what would be the point?
What other reason could there be to work this intensely…

Scream this loudly…
Scratch backs this deeply…
Curse so freely as you plead passionately…

“Fuck me. Oh dear God ... please... fuck me…”
And I oblige as muscles constrict and hips begin to shift while something wicked this way...
cums.

Legs wrap and hold tight as you whisper “Right there, right there, please… just... stay... right... there.”

Having done as you request, I am rewarded with waves of convulsion and concussive force as your essence is set forth unto the night.

There is calm after the storm and on the horizon sits… that… red… dress.

Symbolizing a white flag raised as you lay dazed and spent. Trembling softly, eyes closed, breathing shallow and quick.

Your screams still echo.
Your fingers still grip.
Residual flutters of sporadic after-shocks send spasm through your core.

That… red… dress watching us from the distance.

We lay in the shadow of heavy air and memories made.
Living… remembering… satiated and satisfied somewhere in-between our place in the sky and that dress watching us from the floor.

©Copyright 2012 JC One Cannon. All rights reserved. Neither the whole, nor any portion of this material may not be published, broadcast, rewritten, or redistributed without written and explicit authorized permission.