Marking territory – his perspective

This is my boy’s version of Marking territory, thank you baby.

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She and I will separate tomorrow morning, so kneeling in the bathtub in front of her, while she showers, I want to be slapped, to get stunned out of the depression I feel already creeping up on me. Sometimes when I am kneeling and move to kiss her body, to slip my tongue into her, she will hold my head and position me just so, in preparation to slap my face, and now I move to do so, kissing gently, offering her my face, her head and shoulders far above me in the clouds of steam and jet of shower water, a tower the top of which the atmosphere has hidden from me, and with the water in my face and the steam all around I am blind anyway, the inability to see and read her facial expressions, as always, both a source of anxiety and excitement–what is she thinking about up there?–and now I feel her hands guiding my face into her body, feel her positioning my head, my face, in front of her pussy, so that I can barely reach her with my extended tongue, with which I try to find her, search for her, to taste her and to feel her move against me.

But I feel her body relax now, instead, the muscles in her back and legs loosening, I hear her exhale deeply, and instead of the slap–which I thought or imagined was coming–I know now that she is planning on marking me, with her piss, that she is going to piss in my face and turn me into something to be used and something to be hurt without consequence, and my heart starts breaking a little bit because I know that this means she cares for me and wants me even as I know that by pissing on me, in my face, this turns me into a thing, something faceless, something unable to keep or carry a face, and makes my body only an extension of her body.

The water from the shower has been spilling on my face throughout, but the tenor of the water in my face becomes now sharper, a bit salty, and she moves her body closer into me, into my face, and I can feel the stream of her piss splashing across my face and down my chest and shoulders before I can open my mouth and help guide the stream into me, which I do, trying to make a seal between my mouth and her cunt so that the extension of her body into mine is complete and unbroken, so that I miss nothing, so that I can BE nothing too. But I find the seal impossible to make and keep, of course, and along with her piss, the stream of it now increasing so that I have to begin swallowing faster and faster, I am also swallowing the shower water as it falls on me, except the illusion in my mind is that everything I swallow is hers, that the water from the shower running over her body, down her face, breasts, stomach and into my mouth is hers, from her, so that I get a quick, vertiginous feeling that I am being entirely filled up by her, the empty, figurative spaces in my chest inhabited by her, so that there is nothing left empty or secret she is not a part of, the water all around and all over me is hers and the blankets of steam are hers and I am completely covered up by her. And I can sense her now moving rhythmically a little bit above me as the stream slows, her pussy rocking into my open mouth just a bit, popping my head back gently, and I break the seal of our bodies willingly now and begin licking into her cunt, trying to slip into her with my tongue as deeply as I can, more methodically now than before, her hands still framing my face.

She has in the past punctured my body with needles, broken my skin with her teeth, and penetrated me with her cock, but it is this moment, a sad moment where I feel broken, somehow worthless and a thing but also much cared for, cherished, it is this moment in which she has finally come inside of me, come in my mouth, come in my face, her piss like come running down my chest, and I have swallowed for her, all of it I could, and I hope this makes me a good boy.