Divine Sensuality

Deeper I drive, hips rolling in a slow, relentless rhythm that makes the bell sing steadily against your skin. With every stroke the chime echoes louder in your head, stripping away everything but the thick slide of my cock inside your slick heat. Your thoughts scatter and reform into pure sensation—tight, aching pleasure spiraling tighter with each ring. I watch your lips part, your fingers clutching at the sheets as your mind slips further into that velvet trance, where time stretches and every thrust becomes a deep, hypnotic command your body obeys without question.

You crave the bell now. I can feel it in the way your walls flutter and grip me greedily, in the soft, needy sounds escaping your throat. Each forward surge draws another crystalline ring that sinks straight into your core, melting your resistance, flooding you with liquid desire until craving becomes your only reality. Your hips rise to meet me, chasing the next chime, the next devastating thrust that sends fresh ripples of ecstasy cascading through your mind and cunt alike. Lost in it, you are nothing but wet heat and trembling need, beautifully undone.

you look like the world in your posture of surrender.

My savage, peasant body digs into you

and makes the son leap from the depth of the earth.

I was alone like a tunnel. The birds fled from me,

and night overwhelmed me with its crushing invasion.

To survive myself I forged you like a weapon,

like an arrow in my bow, a stone in my sling.

But the hour of vengeance falls, and I love you.

Body of skin, of moss, of eager and firm milk.

Oh the vessels of the breast! Oh the eyes of absence!

Oh the roses of the pubis! Oh your voice, slow and sad!

Body of my woman, I will persist in your grace.

My thirst, my boundless desire, my shifting road!

Dark riverbeds where the eternal thirst flows,

and weariness follows, and infinite ache.

By Pablo Neruda

Moon Dance To celebrate the joy of being alive and a kind of love that isn’t complicated, it simply is. Awoo! :)

Gustave Courbet (French, 1819-1877)

Something that has features of wolf and dragon, and maybe alien, maybe others too. Probably shapeshifting or appearing in different forms.

Thousands of years old Creature living in the woods. The woods are big enough in the normal world, but I also have an instinctive ability to traverse to a special world that is infinite woods, where I could run forever in one direction and never run out of woods to run in, and then return to the normal world the instant I desire to.

There's a temple to Me, full of cute or lovely priestesses that love to serve Me. There's a basin of clean water for Me to drink from and an altar with offerings.

I'm big enough to be able to snatch up a priestess in My mouth or pin her under a paw and play with her however I like, yet the temple is still big enough for Me to roam around in it and have My way with whatever and whoever I find within.

Sometimes I'm peaceful. Sometimes I'm violent. Sometimes I bear young (or I bring girl who I've put My young into), and sometimes I want to take those young with Me while other times I want to leave them for the priestesses to take care of. Sometimes they bring girls for Me to play with; sometimes those girls relax and let Me do whatever I want with them, and sometimes those girls get up and I get to chase them down (now or later). No matter what I want, the priestesses are always accommodating for Me.

Perhaps I am a deity with a human-like mind but animalistic tendencies, or perhaps I am purely animalistic all the way through. It would be ambiguous to a detached observer or reader of a story about Me, but the priestesses would worship Me as an intentional nature Goddess all the same.

But regardless of whether I'm genuinely wise or just an impulsive beast, I am still a deity. Unkillable, immortal, thousands of years old. The woods I live in -- My woods -- are resilient, divinely consecrated, protected from corruption. My fluids have different miraculous properties, being lifebringing, highly nourishing, healing, protecting against evil forces, or other mysterious properties. I mark territory, objects, or people, and whatever I mark becomes blessed and sacred. And every now and then, I'll cause great natural miracles or great disasters by My will.

It's way too small for him. He keeps pulling me down on his cock, fucking up into me so roughly I squeal and yelp between tears. He hushes me and tells me I'm a good little girl. Tells me it'll be over soon. I can't even tell because all I can think about is the feeling of him fucking me, holding me so tight I can't move an inch, just manhandling me like a little doll with that soft, soothing voice in my ear. I'm making all these little whines into his shoulder and my pussy is so tight around him he's not going to last.

I’m still crying softly into his shirt, body trembling from the rough fucking, but he just rocks me gently, one big hand stroking my hair while the other holds my hips down so I stay fully impaled. “Shhh, sweet girl,” he murmurs against my temple, voice low and soothing, like he’s comforting a baby instead of using my tiny hole. “Daddy’s got you. Such a good little thing, keeping all my cum warm inside you. Doesn’t it feel better like this? Full and safe.”

I whine and try to shift, the pressure too much, too deep, but his arm tightens like iron around my waist. Every tiny movement makes his cock drag against my sensitive walls, sparking sharp bursts of overstimulation that have me sobbing harder. He’s still so big, even soft, stretching me obscenely. My pussy aches and throbs around him, clenching helplessly as if trying to push him out, but there’s nowhere for me to go.

Minutes pass like that—me sniffling and squirming in his lap, him petting me tenderly, kissing my wet cheeks and whispering praise. “My perfect girl. So tight for Daddy. Just relax and let me stay inside you.” His hand slides down to rub slow circles over my lower belly, pressing lightly right where I can feel the bulge of him.

Then I feel it. He starts to harden again, swelling thicker, longer, forcing my already ruined cunt to stretch even more. I cry out, fresh tears spilling as the pressure builds unbearably. “Too big—Daddy, please—” but he only hushes me with soft kisses, holding me down firmly as his cock stiffens fully, trapping his load even deeper.

He starts rocking again, slow and deliberate this time, grinding up into me with passionate rolls of his hips. The wet, filthy sound of his cum being churned inside me fills the room. Every thrust is intense, passionate, like he’s claiming every inch of my spasming heat. My clit grinds against his base with each movement, sending brutal waves of overstimulation through me until I’m shaking, wailing into his shoulder, my nails digging into his shirt.

He doesn’t stop. He just holds me tighter, murmuring loving words while he uses me. “That’s it, baby. Cry for Daddy. You’re doing so well. This little pussy was made to take me like this—milking me, keeping me warm.” His pace builds, fucking me harder on his cock, bouncing me in his lap with controlled strength. The stretch burns so good it hurts, my walls fluttering wildly around his enormous length as another orgasm rips through me against my will, making me scream and clamp down even tighter.