Just allow yourself to relax and let go and enjoy the journey, feeling completely safe and secure as you count your way down:
Ten, breath in, and hold… Nine, breath out… letting go… Eight, breath in, and hold, then… Seven, breath out… drifting down… Six, breath in, and hold, then… Five, breath out… deeper and deeper relaxed… Four, breath in, then… Three, breath out… letting go, not a care in the world… Two, breath in, and hold… One, breath out… you feel a deep sense of inner calm. You feel strong and centered. You feel safe and secure.
Go deeper and deeper. Letting go. Feeling at peace with yourself now. Deeper and deeper, to that powerful and resourceful part of you! And every positive suggestion will sink deep into the unconscious part of your mind and have a powerful and lasting effect.
You feel creative and inspired, and you connect with a deep feeling of inner peace as you continue to go deeper. Inside you is an infinite source of wisdom and creativity, self-belief and confidence, and this is the real you – your true self – that is always there inside – and you connect with this powerful part of you now. Your courage and confidence. Your talent and creativity. Your ability to love, to feel both vulnerable and secure.
These words, they come, curling around you. They want you. They remember the firm feel of your body, held in the grip of his hands. The warmth held between the press of his skin against yours. The light trapped in between your touch.
These words come over you, they want to drink you, feast on you, swallow you, lap, savor and devour you. They want to ease you open. Part you, spread you. Strip you, graze you, nuzzle, rub and stroke you.
Last night I drowned in a flood of your dreams. I watched you. Your body stretched on knees and elbows. Your mouth moaning, stretching full, filled with the thickest, heaviest, juiciest phallus. So full. You muffled and snorted with unheard pleasures; your cunt, aching, weeping, so tight, laden with arousal and need.
His words, they come to you, through his fingers and his eyes, aching to scribe their words inside you. To uncap the nib of his pen and ink his need inside your body. To tattoo his love underneath your skin, indelible and permanent.
To hold you, to grasp, grip, tug, cling, pinch, squeeze, pull and roll you: a poem for your breasts, your nipples gorged, caught in the frame of his wide camera eyes, his cock throbbing, stroking a storm of thunder, threatening to cloud burst hot creamy spunk over your unfiltered image.
His words tempt you, incite you. They demand and command. You must do as he tells you. Your body is his servant: climbing on top, gathering your deep colored silk and lace, feeling it stretch and cling, the intimacy riding up onto your tender hips, where between your thighs you feel his cock pressing against the soft cusp of your aching naked cunt.
Marionette, you come unstrung, easing yourself down onto him. Feeling your tight lush cunt pushing open, gripping his cock, slowly wishing your way down onto him, feeling his heart throbbing inside you, his cock thickening, reaching up inside your sex, rubbing, stroking, filling you full.