Oooof.
Sharp.
Sand-rough.
Grit hard scratch against tender soft un-wet.
Hiss of breath between teeth.
His: pleasure. Mine: pain.
Stinging pricks of icy rain batter the insides of my eyes. I lower my lids to contain the swelling storm.
Hovering above me, muscles tensed – anxious, alert, aroused – he stills.
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