Why worry about education? Why worry
about a career? Why worry about ever deciding for yourself? Why ever try to be more than you were
meant to be?
Feel how soft you are, how smooth, how
utterly perfect for pleasing him. Feel yourself shudder as you lower
onto him, how hard you’ve made him, how you clench around his
thickness and how full he makes you feel.
Feel your breath coming
quicker and your heart beating faster the more you ride him. Feel his
hands on your hips, helping you. So strong compared to you. You can’t
help being weak, it’s not your fault, it’s just the way you are. You
can’t fight it. You know you can’t fight it.
Embrace it. You are weak. You are helpless. Powerless, mindless. All of these things, and that’s okay, that’s just what you are, that’s all you ever supposed to be. You find where you belong. Feel how good it is.
Feel him twitch and throb as your body
gets him off. Feel the lovely warmth of him spurting up inside, feel
the happiness in knowing you’ve pleased him. Know that soon you’ll
even be allowed to clean him up and taste both of you.
Why would you ever worry about anything