Marks

We like to mark each other; sometimes as a sign of passion and sometimes ownership; sometimes literally and sometimes symbolically — we do it physically and soulfully. Some marks are temporary and others more permanent lasting a lifetime.

Lipstick on a collar; hickeys on your neck; leather collars; golden showers; strap marks on your ass; a broken heart; a love that still echoes and makes you smile; nail marks that run the length of your back — the list is only limited by your imagination.

She spread her legs for me, exposing a well shaved pussy and invited me to fuck her; it is all she really wanted from me.  She wanted me to fuck her deep and make her cum, which she told me before we were naked she rarely did. She was tight and the condom dulled my excitement enough to let me hold on until she was satisfied. I came hard and fell into her sweating. She got the fuck she was looking for

It wasn’t until later that I happen to turn and look at my back in the mirror and saw the long red lines she left as a reminder, or maybe something more symbolic.

 In the end, I believe we mark to be remembered.

She stroked my cock seducing me to get hard and then bit my nipple hard. She would release her hold, still stroking and cooed over my growing cock. She would take my nipple into her mouth once more and bite down hard. We would play this game regularly until eventually she could make me hard simply by biting my nipple, and sometimes I would cum without her ever touching my cock.

 To this day, if I pinch my nipple I think of her and will start to get hard.

 In the end, I believe we want to be marked but then again, maybe I should just speak for myself.

 W