The Initiation
She held the tool of transformation
in her small, unsteady hands
and I, a willing participant,
bent over the altar of my own desire.
I felt the weight of it between my thighs,
a foreign object that somehow felt like home.
She was gentle at first,
tracing lines along my spine,
guiding me into submission.
But as she found her rhythm,
the thrusts grew sharper,
more demanding.
She whispered words of encouragement
that I couldn’t quite make out
amidst the sounds of our bodies
colliding in perfect harmony.
And when she finally took me to completion,
I knew that this was only the beginning.
As usual Miss Autumn, I thoroughly enjoy reading your posts. c.
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