Needles

My skin, rosy and pink from a hot lavender scented bath.
I sit naked, propped up by pillows, my ass sliding on purple satin.
The shiny tubes of metal, wait patiently in their plastic cases
They hold the pain and power that will create my release.
The sharp sting of alcohol fills my senses as I caress my breast with the cool wipe.
Finally it is time. A slow deep breath in, then the push out as the needle gently slips into my body.
I watch, fascinated as it travels, my skin hugging it tightly.
I slide more in to join the first, deeper and faster, fucking my skin with the sharpness.
My skin glows. My breast feels heavy and warm.
I lustfully admire the tiny drops of blood that trickle down to hang off my nipple.
I play with the needles. Smacking them with my palm. Turning and twisting them. Quietly laughing at the pain.
I feel languorous, drunk with peace and pleasure.
I wait, for the one who will remove the needles from my body and fill me with her fist.

©copyright Crave December 1st, 1999

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