There are times when hormones surge in us and the need for each other overwhelms all else.

In those moments I find my spirit crying out in desperate need of connection.

Following that need my body tends to snap into action. I don’t think I’d describe my demeanor as aggressive, but I can certainly be exceedingly assertive. It’s probably the most overtly “dommy” (is that a word? That can’t be a word) that I get.

It might start in missionary. Such an underrated position, isn’t it? Feels like it maybe gets associated with boring sex. But I get to look into your eyes. I get to kiss you. And my body is free to move, to let my hips swim and stroke to deep spaces within you.

I can easily get lost here forever, in this flow state of exploration. My hips dipping deep. Stolen kisses. Feeling your fingers dance across my skin. Your legs curl around me and ankles lock at my low back.

But there’s this look you give me, invariably somewhere deep in a reverie that can interrupt my yogic trance, that snaps me out of the way we commune together and pushes me toward something deeper.

I’m trying to think of how to describe this look and I’m struggling. It’s a fire in your eyes, sure, betraying a deeper need. It’s a parting of your lips, a wordless plea for “*more*…”

It’s entirely possible there is no look. That I’m just projecting my own darker desires onto you. I hope that’s not the case but I feel my body yield to instinct. Muscles fire as someone or something more primal takes over.

My hands move to your legs. Thumbs hook into the tender space behind your knees, pinning them up into the space near your armpit. Folding your supple body in half. A wise woman once said “*turn my ankles to earrings…*”

Darling. I’m happy to oblige.

There’s this delicious opening up in that moment, isn’t there? As your hips tip upward, presenting yourself. Exposing yourself. Ripe for the taking. As the same wise woman once said “*a wish to my hips to crack in two…*”

There’s a beauty to that negative space, the cool air under you as your ass lifts and your low back hovers off the bed. If I still have my wits about me I like to fold a pillow and stuff it in that space. For support, and to cushion the blow in the event that I get carried away.

In this moment, I can’t help but pause for a moment to take you in. To marvel at the radical vulnerability of your unconditional surrender. I feel myself salivate. Quite actually drooling at the thought of claiming you as mine. And you might watch a warm trail of saliva fall from my lips, glazing your swollen clit and dancing over your soft folds. It might just look like I’m lustily leering at your glistening pussy, but I promise there’s more happening in my mind. I’m taking a moment to ground myself, to find my center, understanding the magnitude and the importance of the contract we’re drafting together. With your folding, your tender presentation, you are giving yourself over to me- mind, body and spirit. And I am accepting the responsibility to safeguard you through this. To be your Sherpa of a sort, on some strange quest, a long and potentially winding road, perhaps one that detours in bogs and quagmires of self-doubt, but one that invariably climbs toward a summit of release. And then of course to lead you downhill gently, to hold your hand and make you feel safe.

All of this is communicated in the fleeting simplicity of a nod.

I admit my eyes go wet in response to your consent. It’s not that I’m crying, but you know that feeling when an emotion hits you so square in the chest that it demands a physiological response?I’m not entirely sure how I would describe this emotion I’m feeling right now- Longing? Gratitude? Adoration?

With this contract signed there is not much else to do but to give in. To give ourselves over to the wonderful/terrible force of our libidos. I tend to linger in this moment. Of eye contact, of feeling the tension of your muscles in my hands. Everything here feels loaded with poetry and potential. I can’t help but feel some tiny sense of doom. Knowing all the raw feral beauty that awaits us, but enjoying the fragile perfection of this tiny intimate moment between us. Pinned beneath my bodyweight, smirking up at me, wondering what my next move will be. I hear a voice in the back of my head say-

“*If this is it old boy, I hope you don’t mind I go out speaking the kings…*”

And we begin.

My hips press down powerfully and we both feel the way your body melts at the crack of thunder in your core.

“*Good girl*.” My lips dance over your ear, pouring affirmations into your mind. I know that was an intense opening gambit, to push myself this deep this immediately. But you didn’t break. You rose to the occasion. I pull my hips partway back and push again. Deeper, watching your eyelids flutter. Again piston back once more and this time put my back into it. I feel something yield in your core-

And my cock rests his heavy head-

Directly on your cervix.

I rest here a moment, stunned and in awe of the sheer power of your femininity. I’m completely inside you. Stretching and claiming every possible fold of you and somehow this feels… gentle? Like the moment where the mortal approaches the mythical creature and puts a hand out in humility. Not taking by force but taming by respect.

I feel my hips shift slightly, redirecting my weight and settling the weight of my erection just a little bit north of his current position on your cervix.

He finds his way to the soft notch

of your anterior fornix.

Your body’s reaction is immediate and overwhelming. The dragon’s scales falling away in *Spirited Away* to reveal your true form as a river goddess.

The noise you make is primal. It’s not a word or a plea or a demand. It’s somehow deeper. I know it’s not what you said but my ears process it as-

“*Mate*.”

And yes. I could not have summed it up better myself. It describes all of our connection and our jumbled mess of needs in one succinct word.

Fixated on your a-spot, my hips move.

*Thwump*.

*Thwump*.

It takes a moment before you realize your blank mind is listening to the weight of my balls pressing against your puffy lips.

Fingers still hooked fast around the crook of your knees. I push inside you relentlessly as I watch your eyes darken. It’s so wild to watch you slip away. To see my kindhearted lover leave her own body and fall into the comfort of subspace.

There is an unspeakable beauty to a powerful woman like yourself, folded up in unconditional surrender.

I find myself uttering your mantra in your ear again-

“*Good girl.*”

But the beast- The creature that you’ve become, does not share your self control.

I feel a sharp involuntary kegel at my words. This ripe little hole you call a cunt beginning to tremble on the brink of collapse.

“*Oh my god babe… are you going to cum already?*”

I watch a red flush of embarrassment color your cheeks and I immediately feel bad. There’s no need to taunt you. That’s not fair.

My hands frame your face, bringing your gaze to lock on mine.

“*It’s okay. You can cum.”*

The permission seems to unlock something in you. You let out an incoherent grunt as your hips yawn wider.

*“You are so so good.”*

I watch the crinkle of your brow as you wonder if I’m going to say it-

*“You are such a good girl.”*

Your whole cunt sings out and spasms at those words, gripping me in exaltation.

*“Just do me a favor…”*

Your eyes search mine.

*“Don’t you dare hold back.”*

Your throat lets out a grunt like a wild animal.

*“That’s it.”*

I feel your kegels turn to deeper contractions. Trying to draw me close to your cervix again.

*“There she is.”*

I feel the clench in your core, followed by the muscle spasm and the full body shakes.

*“There’s my girl.”*

Knowing you’re already deep in it I insist on pushing your further past your limits. My hips move in taut relentless thrusts now. Fucking you straight through the shake.

*“Cum hard.”*

That’s when I hear the scream. Full throated and deafening in my ear. Your body reaching for anyway to express this intensity.

*“Cum like you fucking mean it.*”

I hold you tight as we both feel the crest of your orgasm, which for a long moment, feels like it will never pass.

But I’m looking in your eyes as it eventually subsides. As the convulsions calm. As you turn to hungry kisses and fits of delighted laughter.

There’s something so wonderful about the way your body feels right after you’ve cum. There’s such an unselfconscious openness. Your joints feel suppler, more open, more… bendy even? I’m sure it’s just the flood of endorphins but it feels like our bodies are never closer than in this moment.

You laugh and let your hand go to your forehead to dab at some of the glisten and start to say something like “*holy shit*\-“

But my hand moves to your cheek, frames your face, fingers trace that corner of your jawline.

“*We’re not done yet babe.*”

I move my hips slow and you feel the soft stretch of me inside you, snapping you out of your reverie and feeling my coiled power, hard and thick, but with just the right amount of squish to him to hit that spot.

Your eyes meet mine, and it’s as if you can see your future.

You can feel the way I am going to empty myself inside you, unleash my virility in your cervical throne room. You’re going to feel me leaking out of you all day tomorrow.

With a soft shared smirk, the same telepathic word passes between us-

“*Mate.”*

The Vulnerability of Mating Press (Ramble)