Freedom

Freedom. It means I can come to you with the taste of another man on my tongue. With the memory of his hands on my body and his fingers in my cunt, with the feel of his cum on my lips, my cheeks still flushed from the intense pleasure he forces upon me.
And I can laugh with you. I can enjoy your company. I can twine my fingers with yours, brush my body along your side, watch your lips as you speak and imagine running my tongue along their seam. I can sit on a couch with you in a dark room, watch a movie while I run my hands lightly up and down your leg. I can lay my head in your lap and breath on your erect cock. I can fuck you, make love to you, ride you, and watch your eyes above me as you labor. I can wrap my legs around your waist and love the feel of every part of you touching me. I can be desperate to watch you cum, desperate for the taste and sight of you, yearn for the touch of your hand on the back of my neck. I can love you, in my own way, as we lay side by side, laughing at the odd places your cum has chosen to travel.

And I can watch you retreat into a world where women don't enjoy that sort of thing. I can watch you pull back inside of yourself as your cock shrinks. I can watch you feel the shame that I will never feel again. I can feel your confusion, and taste your fear, as bitter as your cum.

And I can walk away. I can leave your house, and walk down a rain drenched street on a Saturday night. I can feel my hips swaying in rhythm to the music you pounded inside of me just moments ago. I can love your memory, and I can enjoy the little grin of satisfaction you gave me. I can see the spark in others eyes, men and women. The knowledge that we, too, could feel that lust, that they could bath in the power you've given me with your orgasm. I can feel POTENTIAL. I can BE potential. I can be free. Free of your fear, your twisted emotions, your needs and your wants.

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