Unity by delicious All for one: and that one is a SHE So here I am sitting here in this office: how can I call myself a prisoner? I walk in here this morning, and I will walk out at 5 pm, like anyone else. My right hand..... AND....left one too. I giggle to myself... well why not? I'm TALKING to myself, after all. I am reminiscing about the early days, when we were really hot for each other. I miss that time. * * * * * * The first time. The time has come. All the anticipation ends now. Either I will have only regretful memories, or the pleasant recollection of how a wonderful adventure came to its first glorious consummation. The moment for what? You loom above me. My face is red and raw, as is yours from the friction of kissing on your couch. I'm a bit giggly, because of excitement. This was supposed to be simply a first date, a chance to finally see each other in the flesh. Lunch was all it was to be. But I saw the click in your eyes. I more than passed. You said you didn't expect someone so good looking. Me? I keep looking and touching, as though touching your arms, your hips, your face, are ways to verify that I'm not dreaming. And a dream is about to come true. One hand is knotted into my shirt front, pulling me up and then pushing me down. Your smile has got me a little wild, because you keep looking at me with this expression that makes me feel like breakfast, or lunch. I have never felt chemistry like this with any other woman. You loom above me, and lean down upon my neck and throat with that big wide mouth open. Maybe it's no bigger than a small woman's mouth, but everything on you seems huge..... you fingers, hands, eyes.... lips.... that mouth sucks at my throat, and I feel I could cum and cum endlessly. But I hold back, being a gentleman. A hand grabs my entire crotch area, squeezing, devouring, greedily. Then the pants are coming off.....quickly. And hers too. So much whiteness...the top is still on, but I can see those massive round globes inside easily enough. I stroke one gently. "Harder.....we've discussed this before! In a story for crying out loud. You KNOW I need more sucking than that....." And she pulls my shirt open. Rips is more like it. Mouth on nipple...WOW. "How about that?" She asks, while looking me right in the eye. And she grabs the nipple, too, between her finger nails, and gives it a savage squeeze. Tears appear in my eyes. I am trying to keep up....the boobs are in my face, and I am sucking as hard as I can. And all that whiteness above my chest and stomach. She lets herself down, slowly. "Can you take me? All of me?" The softness under me compresses. She pushes me down, boobs in face, and pelvis now on pelvis. She lifts....and out comes a rubber, to get me ready. DOWN! Deep into her and I am being pushed pushed, down, while the boobs are gloriously round, delicately smashing, jiggling left and right, back and forth.....a hand grabs, and she leans forward, soft pillowy breast meat, tons flooding into my face, turning out the lights....My mouth is open, and I seek out the nipple, while my hand seeks out her own pleasure spots. I try to reach around to tickle the soft roundness of her ass. Such a round shape.... Suddenly she breathes harder and bucks bucks, harder harder..... But we don't stop. We were only starting to get acquainted. * * * * * * Six letters don't work well when you only have five fingers to tattoo them onto; so the I and the E share the same knuckle. I got the idea from the film THE BLUES BROTHERS, only in that film the tattoo was of their own name, not of their girlfriend. I close my eyes, feeling those eyelids flutter. Those are hickeys. Nobody has ever seen a hickey that big before, and no one has any idea how she makes them. I'd give them all a hint: it takes a really big mouth to make such a big mark. A big mouth, with the time and inclination to make such a mark. She gives me a new one almost every day. Sometimes she doesn't bother. When she doesn't it's not a reward, but a punishment, because I'm the one who wants the marks, the visible evidence. A horse or a cow or a bull goes to market wearing a brand: an indication of ownership. Can the animal understand that the pain is a fundamental change in its nature, changing it from beautiful, flawless beast, to marked livestock, bearing a symbol that speaks loud and clear: MINE. This animal, even if it runs away, is MINE. I asked for the same treatment, and after a lot of persuasion, I got it. It wasn't enough, living close to such a big powerful being. Being close to her, I was never cold anymore. But the closeness was a given from the first time we embraced, and she decided that I was someone she wanted to have around all the time. We had had sex already, a wild, life-threatening rite of passage that plastered a near-permanent grin onto my face, from the first time she climbed onto me, opened her top three buttons, and said "what do you think?" She knew I would become accustomed, and eventually addicted to the softness, the pressure, the pounding, the grabbing, squeezing, and eventually, the outright crushing and squashing. Those words usually come up when describing acts of violence, where one party is exterminating the other, such as a foot and an insect, or an empty beer can and a sad drinker who wants another beer. Sometimes the violence is accidental, as in the outcome of an animal crossing the road a little too slowly to avoid being hit by a vehicle. What if the crushing is a deliberate act of love? As I set those words down, I stare at them, because they still make me shake. What an idea, that a woman could lovingly squish a man. But the idea is like the holy gospel of our lord...better make that, Goddess if the action is one that both the one on top and the one underneath delight in. The first time it was more or less accidental.... or let's say, a by- product of something else we were doing. She had told me she really didn't like lying on her back with me on top.... it was too hard to breathe that way. But there she was, showing me how she likes to cum, lying on her front, bouncing on top of her hand, deep in her crotch.... I was trying to help her, at the same time. On inspiration, I said "get up for a minute".... I got down on my back, and then told her to come back, but this time, with her crotch over my face. She laughed, she roared. She was sure it would kill me... But she was also really randy, and a bit tipsy, too. Before she knew it, she was riding my face as though it were her hand... squeezing, pressing, ..... and I was able to breathe just fine, which I told her because she was worried. Before you know it, she can't come any other way, or at least, this is the BEST way she knows. It works for me, too, because I can feel how she's turned on to being on me, pressing me into the bed, and me unable to get out from under (who's trying to....?). This becomes our love-game, except it then becomes our entire life: me underneath, and her on top. The breasts become another way to press, squish, hold me down, while she rubs against my hardness, enjoying the way she controls me, as though I were just her sex toy. Which is what I wish I were. The next stage was when I started asking for marks that I was hers. When you're under a big, hot woman, who's humping against you, it's a sad moment when she gets off. The world is a might cold place without her there on top. I asked her to start saying I was hers.... So she'd smle indulgently, and say "you're mine". It was nice of her, although wished she had really meant it when she said it. But she took to saying it while she was on me, rocking back and forth as though trying to press me through the bed. I missed her so bad when she got off... so I needed some evidence, something that hurt while I was at work, to remind me that she would be climbing back onto me. I craved more. I gave up television, asking Her instead to watch tv while sitting on me, her ass sideways across my chest, permanent as a building, growing up over me. She would describe some of the show to me, but the deal was that I couldn't see it. I wanted to see only her, and have the view obstructed by her. And at least once a day her softness, her heat, her smell, her grabbing of my nipples and sucking on eyelids and neck, would bring me another ecstatic moment. Which brings me here again..... work. I am free for a few hours, that seem like days, and then I am gloriously encumbered, buried in her for the evening and the night. I know, I look at the clock and the calendar, and it's clear that I spend most of my time being crushed under her, having no life except compression under her. But it's not enough. While I am at work, I pine for her. Quitting time is never soon enough: the time I will be back under her, restrained and in the prison she makes in our home. But I am only free when i am held and pressed by her weight, only alive when squished almost to death. When I am free to go, I am oppressed more by the cold air, the open sky, the huge gap in my life when she does not block out everything else. For a few moments each day I experience the transcendent glory only Moses achieved: to be at one with the deity. Pressed under her, after awhile it becomes hard to tell where she begins and I end. Her hot clefts buffet and grab my face with chunks of hot hungry flesh. After awhile my lips swell, become wet with her flavours, and soon are indistinguishable from her lower lips. I grab hold when she lifts her weight, riding up, and then revelling in that triumphant downward blast of heavy flesh squishing down. My skull sometimes seems to be pressed, bent,m by all thoe pounds, rolls and rolls of soft round pinkness, massing, coming for me. I identify with that bouncing energy, that up into the air and slow falling back to earth, in synch with all that passion and heat. I want to be turned into a little pimple on her huge round ass. I imagine it, and it's so. Press me harder, and I am under that soft skin, a voyeur to my own annihilation, watching with clinical concentration, as individual blood vessels pop in my face, my nose bending, my cheek-bone flexing. What would it be like to be inside a skull as the head caved in? I am willing that ass to land like a Dodge truck, or an elephant's foot... blind and unconscious weight that knows no reason or hunger, but simply is, on and on, down and down, through anything that gets in the way. Don't let me stop you, I pray, as I join forces with her, in her intention to pave my face across her bed. Press me so deep inside you that you can take me anywhere with you. But even such moments of insight end, as she climbs off, checking to see if I am ok. "That time I wondered if went too far". "......no..... that time you almost went far enough" I reply. She is only beside me, and I try to pull her back. She gets up to go to the bathroom. I am desolate until her return.... We were one for a moment; now we are two again. * * * * * * .....and I am back in the present. I guess it couldn't last. But it was marvelous while it lasted. So sad.....these days we only have sex about 4 or 5 times week. Sometimes a whole day goes by when she doesn't have time to bury me in her massive softness..... Sure it's sad..... but I'm still grinning.