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One Dark Night

"The dark conceals many things"

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Competition Entry: Masked

I wait in darkness. Lights off. Shades drawn. Deep darkness. I need the darkness to do what I am about to do. I need my fix.

My lust grows in the dark; it's outed by blackness. I wish to feed it. I hunger for him, and such as him, to sate me.

Like me, he is different in the light. His clothes mask him in daylight. Like me. Cloaked by the dark, he wears nothing. Like me.

At night, his persona is dark; his color is dark. My persona yields to dark; it surrenders to dark; it desires darkness.

He desires control; to control the experience. When he sounds, I moan. Cues for him to pleasure me. I control the pleasure I take from him. Intense pleasure. Shrouded pleasure. Dark pleasure.

My black triangle, the dark between my legs, makes me Cat Woman. I wait for the Dark Knight.

While I lie in blackness, I wait for dark lust to overtake me. I like it black…and dark. I like the shaft black. I like the sex black. I close my eyes to keep it black. When there is no light, all men are black but they are not the same shade. I like the blackest shade…even in the dark. The blackest of men are invisible in the deep dark. The way I like it.

My mask has eyes but it doesn’t see; it’s no secret what I am when I wear it. I close them. I forbid my dark lust to be seen. I clench them shut to conceal the yearning desire inside of me lest it light the room and change the mood. My mood. His mood.

If I choose, I see him in the dimmest of light; but I do not choose. I prefer an image of him in my mind in the dark; him taking me as a thief takes silver from a darkened home. Shadowy. Subversive. He does not break and enter. He has a key and he uses it. His shadow has a shadow. It intends to take my silver and I desire to surrender it without a struggle.

Legs open. He is inside. I feel his darkness inside, too. I thrust against my image of him and grasp him, to guide him, to bring me pleasure in the dark.His blackness overwhelms me. His blackness brings me pleasure. Deeply. Darkly. There are dark sounds. Dark slaps. Dark thrusts.

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His dark baby-making rhythms do not threaten me. They excite me. His darkness slaps against me. I succumb to dark feelings. I surrender. I yield to the sensation of him. His texture, his body, his skin, his darkness inside me. All of it silently screams, I bring darkness to your light. I steal your silver and leave you darkened. I'll leave darkness inside you when I am done.

He is not ebony in the dark. He is the dark. The dark is his cowl. He is my Dark Knight. He is mine and he takes me. A light would unmask him. I keep it dark. He is the dark stranger coming to take my light, my silver, and to leave me darkened in ways that others do not or cannot. I love the dark of him and others like him.

I call the Boatman many names as he ferries me across the river. He is Charon and he carries me to Hades for certain with every thrust. I pay for my sin with the silver within me. Sin is not scarlet. It is black. Like the night. Like him. I tell the Boatman to hurry. To bring me to the other side. Faster. Deeper. Harder.

He makes me feel in the dark. Strong feelings. Dirty feelings. Feelings that bring me to the edge of surrendering to darkness. Wanton feelings. Wanting the moment when I gasp in the dark and clutch him tightly against me. Inside me. The moment when the lights inside my head blind me. Spotlights. Orgasmic lights. I know the room is dark and he is dark but the light inside me is intense. He, too, gasps in the dark. Deeply. He takes the light inside me for himself and he leaves his dark ribbons seeping out of me.

He takes silver from me. The thief. His shadow places my husband's key on the table.

My lust is sated. The light inside me fades slowly to black. The way I like it. He leaves me in the dark. The way I like it.

I breathe.

A wet darkness remains on our marital bed. The way I like it.

 

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Written by Trystin715
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