I Fantasize About the Woman I Love Being My Gladiator

This winter gives me no respite. The cold seeps through my skin, far too white and far too thin, and settles in my bones until it leaves me tired, weak, longing to disappear beneath the blankets. And then, as always, I think of you.

The strangest thing of all is that in real life you’re a straight woman, someone who would never look at me the way I look at you. But not in my head. In my head, you’re something else. You’re my warrior, more woman than any woman and more capable than any man, not only because of your strength but because of the way you would know how to fuck me. I would be your lady: delicate, small, surrendered. Because not all of us who love other women are looking for something gentle. Some of us want someone who will fight for us and then spread our legs without asking permission.

I need your big body and your height, those six feet and then some against which my petite figure sinks as though into a shelter. I need to feel your weight, the heat given off by your skin and your breathing, while all I have is cold and a trembling that won’t stop. You, solid and commanding as a she-wolf from the northern forests; me, small and tame as a bird left outside the nest.

When sadness overcomes me, I need to cry against your chest while your lips seal my forehead and cheeks. I need you to bare your claws whenever something frightens me, because I was always timid and soft by nature. To make me feel protected, even if only for a while.

And I need the opposite, too: to be there when the doors of your chest open wide and your dark eyes fill with tears, when you show me the fragile side hidden inside all that strength. To heal the wounds of your soul with hugs, caresses, and kisses.

I need your enormous hands, with their long, thick fingers, warming mine, which are slender, pianist’s hands that grow cold at the slightest thing. I need the sweet roughness of your skin moving over my cheeks, my back, my tits, my waist, my hips. I need your scent, that mixture of honey and cinnamon that makes me dizzy, and your long brown hair, and the curve of your body that drives me wild.

I need your voice, so deep and yet so utterly feminine, capable of pushing me to the edge just by hearing it. And I need the gleam in your gaze behind your glasses: if I had to find it among a thousand pairs of eyes, I would recognize it without hesitation. Among them all, it’s the only one.

Just thinking about you brings on an instinct I don’t know how to stop: the urge to make up for all this cold with the heat of my own body, with my fingers inside my cunt, imagining they’re yours.

***

I imagine you entering slowly, your hair loose and your gaze fixed on me, burning with the desire to possess me. You’re wearing barely more than a dark athletic outfit, a top and tight leggings that hide and at the same time emphasize everything about you that makes me hungry. Leather platform boots, thick heels, soles that stamp down hard. Imposing. Magnificent. A gladiator come to claim what’s hers.

I remain standing before you as you sit down, and your powerful legs surround me and squeeze me against you. Your rough hands begin undressing me with a slowness that kills me, running over my waist and hips, leaving me clad only in the fine silk lingerie I chose while thinking of this moment. I wrap my arms around your broad neck, your shoulders, your back, and whisper in your ear how badly I want you, how wet you’ve already made me without barely touching me.

“Tell me you’re mine,” you murmur against my hair, and one of your hands drops suddenly between my legs and squeezes my cunt through the silk. “Tell me this cunt is mine.”

“Yours,” I answer, breathless. “All yours. My cunt is yours. Do whatever you want with me.”

When there’s nothing left on me, you pull away a little to look me up and down. Your cheeks are flushed, your breathing ragged, your pupils huge. No one ever looks at me like this, I think, and the mere feeling of being watched that way leaves me dripping and trembling. You sit me astride your lap, my legs spread wide, and rub me against your firm thighs until I feel myself soaking the dark fabric of your leggings. You kiss me with an intensity that forces me to cling to you with my nails. Your mouth travels down my neck, over my tits, and when you close your lips around the tip of one nipple and suck hard, tugging with your teeth, I have to bite my lip to keep from screaming. You move to the other and do the same, while two of your fingers plunge into my cunt in one clean thrust, all the way in, without warning.

“You’re so tight,” you murmur against my tit, moving your fingers inside me, curling them, searching for the spot that makes me jump. “All for me.”

I nod, unable to speak, already riding your hand, splashing, feeling your palm smack my clitoris with every thrust of your fingers. Just as I’m about to come, you pull them out abruptly, bring them to your mouth, and suck them while looking me in the eyes, very serious, very much the owner of me, as if I were a delicacy.

***

Then I’m the one who wants to go down. I kiss your mouth, your cheeks, your neck, and slowly descend, sliding from your lap until I’m kneeling before you, surrounded by your open legs. I wrap my arms around your waist and caress your back. I devote long minutes to your tits, pulling your top down little by little, freeing them one at a time, heavy and hot in my hands. I suck your large, dark nipples; they harden between my lips. I bite them carefully, tug on them, let them go, and catch them again, losing myself in every inch while I listen to your breathing turn hoarse, almost a growl. That music drives me wild.

I kneel all the way down. I take off your boots and socks, smelling and kissing them without the slightest shame, because with you I’m not embarrassed by anything. I kiss your feet, your calves, the insides of your thighs. I pull your leggings down with my teeth while you hold my head with one of your huge hands and stroke my hair. You’re wearing nothing underneath, and the smell of a hot female strikes me in the face like a sweet slap. Your cunt is glistening and swollen, your lips open, a thick strand of wetness running down your thigh.

“Come on, eat me,” you order in that deep voice, pulling me toward you by my hair. “Suck me properly. Don’t leave anything behind.”

And when I finally reach where I want to be, I slowly sink my tongue in, reverently, from bottom to top, exploring all of you, drinking you in. I part your lips with my fingers and slip between them, licking every fold, sucking at the entrance, pushing my tongue in as far as I can. Then I move up to your clitoris, circle it, squeeze it between my lips, suck it rhythmically. I push two fingers into your cunt while I keep sucking you, curling them as I search inside. You begin moving your hips against my face, crushing my mouth and nose against your sex, leaving me able to breathe only your scent. With your other hand you pinch one nipple, stretch it, and every caress of yours on my nape becomes a stronger and stronger tug, driving me against you as if you wanted to shove me down your throat.

“Yes, that’s it, don’t stop, slut, don’t stop,” you pant. “I’m coming in your mouth, coming in your fucking mouth.”

And you come. Your whole body tenses in spasms, your thighs squeeze my head, and a wave of hot wetness floods my tongue, runs down my chin, and soaks my neck. I don’t pull away. I keep licking you slowly until you collapse, spent, embracing me, and we both end up on the floor, breathless, laughing against each other’s mouths, my face drenched in you.

***

I’m dying for you to lift me into your arms and walk with firm, warrior-like steps, living up to your name. Brunilda: an old name meaning “warrior in armor.” You lay me on the table, face up, my legs hanging over the edge, and lean over me, your mouth descending once more along my neck, my tits, my belly, until it reaches between my legs.

You hold my hips with those hands that cover me completely, tear off my silk panties in one yank, and look at my open cunt with a desire that makes me feel like the most fuckable woman in the world. You spread my legs wide, rest them on your broad shoulders, and your tongue begins to explore all of me, slow at first, moving from bottom to top, savoring me without hurry. Then you focus on my clitoris, squeeze it between your lips, lash it with the tip of your tongue, draw circles, suck, release, return. You push two thick fingers into my cunt and start fucking me with them while you keep sucking my clitoris, and I can hear the wet slapping throughout the room.

“Look at me,” you ask, lifting your face, soaked with me. “Look at me while I put it in you.”

And I summon the strength to look at you, to see your tongue moving over my cunt, your shiny fingers sliding in and out, slick with my wetness. I bring my own hands to my tits, pinch my nipples, arch my back, and a few minutes later everything breaks apart. I come screaming, my legs shaking on your shoulders, and a long shudder drenches your mouth, nose, and glasses. You don’t pull away. You keep sucking, prolonging my orgasm until I cry that I can’t take any more, and even then you give my clitoris one wet kiss before coming back up. When you lean over me to kiss me, your entire face is shining with me, and you make me taste myself by licking your chin. I don’t care. I don’t care about anything when I’m with you.

***

I’m dying for the surprise of seeing you appear wearing a black leather harness firmly strapped around your hips, a thick, curved cock protruding between your thighs, a crooked smile, and your tongue between your teeth. I approach you with my small body still wrapped in silk, put my arms around your waist, kiss your belly, and lower my mouth without thinking to the cock you’re wearing. I take it all the way in, down to the back of my throat, looking into your eyes. You grab my hair with both hands and begin moving my head to your rhythm, slowly fucking my mouth, watching my lips and chin fill with saliva.

“You suck it so well, princess,” you pant. “You’re getting it nice and wet for your cunt.”

Then you lift me, sit me on your lap, tear off my last garment, and I, overcome by desire, cling to your neck, position my pelvis, and impale myself on your cock in one single thrust, all the way down. I scream. You’re so deep inside me, filling me completely. You begin moving slowly, carefully at first, giving me time to adjust, and I ride you to the rhythm you set, rising and falling, feeling you slide in and out, noticing how my cunt opens for you with every thrust. I feel my small tits brushing against yours, your arms spreading over my back like a roof, and I cover your neck, jaw, and cheeks with kisses while you return long kisses on my mouth and thrust your tongue deep inside.

And that’s how we spend a good while, changing positions and places. Standing against the wall, my legs spread around your waist, you driving into me from below with your huge hands holding my ass, spreading my cheeks as you thrust. Sitting, my back to you, your cock entering from behind, your fingers rubbing my clitoris with both hands, your mouth biting my neck. On the kitchen counter, my back against the cold tiles, my legs folded against my chest and you standing between my thighs, fucking me at an increasingly harder pace. On all fours on the floor, my face pressed to the tile and my ass held high, while you ride me from behind like a she-wolf and slap my buttocks, the smacks echoing throughout the house. At times you hold my hair and pull hard; at times you cover my mouth with one hand when I moan too loudly, always with the care of someone who loves me and knows how far she can go without hurting me.

“Do you like the way I fuck you, slut?” you growl in my ear. “Tell me you like it. Tell me who this cunt belongs to.”

“You. It’s yours. It’s all yours. Don’t stop, please don’t stop.”

Minute by minute your thrusts become deeper, faster, rougher, and I ride you as if there were no tomorrow, my tits bouncing, my mouth open, saliva hanging from my chin. Your voice turns harsh, fierce, and between kisses and gasps you repeat in my ear how beautiful you find me, how much I turn you on, how tremendously feminine I make you feel when I open myself like this for you. We pulse to the same rhythm. I cry with pleasure, moan like never before, and we both come at once, soaking the sheets, dripping down our thighs, because the harness presses against you where you need it most, too, and I can feel your cunt throbbing against me. It’s incredible how you fuck me this way.

***

When we can’t take any more, we remain sitting face to face, our legs tangled, our cunts pressed together, moving slowly, one against the other, slippery with all the wetness. We kiss each other with increasing desperation while our swollen sexes rub together, until one last shudder runs through us both at the same time. Then we catch our breath, embrace, cry a little from sheer emotion, and quietly tell each other everything we feel. And we fall asleep like that, tangled together, my face on your tits, your hand asleep between my legs.

But the truth is that I’m alone. I’m in my bed, between these cold sheets, and all of this is happening only inside me. As I think of you, I feel the wetness growing and an instinct I can’t stop. I begin to caress myself slowly—my tits, my nipples, my belly—imagining that it’s your enormous hands moving over me. I slowly move lower, spread my legs, concentrate, and slide two of my slender pianist’s fingers inside my cunt, pretending they’re yours, thick and sure. I push them all the way in, curl them, move them quickly, my palm striking my clitoris. I move as if I were riding you, hug the pillow as if it were you, squeeze it between my legs, kiss it, bite it, breathe deeply in search of your honey-and-cinnamon scent that isn’t there. I come alone, biting the pillow, your name leaving my mouth in a moan no one will hear.

I’m dying to fuck you, Brunilda. For you to possess me. For you to make me yours, completely, without reservations, to spread my legs and fill my cunt until I can’t take any more. I know it will never happen in real life, and perhaps that’s why I want you even more in this one, the only life in which you are mine.

I desire you, adore you, and love you madly.

With all my love,

Vera