Dominant
I do not wrestle—I command.
Each move is drawn by sovereign hand.
I press, I grind, I make him feel
The weight of what I will not yield.
My hips descend, my body flows—
A rhythm every rival knows.
The fabric grips, my bulge displayed,
Not chance, not shame—it’s how I’m made.
His breath is sharp beneath my chest.
I let him squirm. I do not rest.
My balls hang low, a silent threat,
A pendulum not swinging yet.
Submissive
He rides me like a storm come down,
My face half-buried in the ground.
I feel his heat, his breath, his weight—
A force that will not hesitate.
His thigh locks firm along my side,
A strength no plea of mine can guide.
And yet I rise beneath his sway,
Too proud to beg, too full to pray.
His cock—a weight I never see—
Still rules the breath inside of me.
He shifts, and with that silent slide,
He brands not skin alone but pride.
Dominant
He fights, but I allow the fight.
Each strain confirms my grip is right.
Each gasp that slips, each trembling thought
Unwinds the man he once was–caught.
I’m not aroused—I am complete.
His body curled beneath my heat.
He isn’t conquered—he’s begun.
And I will not relent till done.
Submissive
He moves inside my very air—
So close, I feel him everywhere.
His sack, it sways—a grave demand,
A verdict dealt by primal hand.
I hate the way he makes me feel.
Yet crave the man who does not kneel.
I curse, I breathe, I burn, I try—
And tremble when he grips my thigh.
Dominant
He bucks—he’s fire, defiant still,
But every gasp bends to my will.
His spine beneath me, bowed and bare,
Was carved for hands like mine to wear.
I rut. I roll. I ride. I burn.
My will exacts at every turn.
His body strains beneath the cost—
But I will press, and he’ll be lost.
Control is slipping—I bare my teeth.
His moans rise thick from depths beneath.
I clench. I breathe. I close my eyes—
I want to own. I want his cries.
Submissive
He’s groaning now—beast turned to flame,
Each movement rough, refined, and claim.
My vision blurs, my stance betrays,
I cannot keep this god at bay.
I hate how good it feels to yield—
To be the ground, not bear the shield.
His sack swings firm against my skin,
A rhythm pounding deep within.
I shake, undone, without command—
No mercy asked, no guiding hand.
He takes me whole, without pretence—
His breath, my quake—one raw suspense.
Together
He slams. I tremble. We ignite—
A flash that drowns the need for light.
No mat, no rules, no names, no game—
Just breath and heat and something claimed.
Collapsed, entangled, bruised and bare,
In silence thick with touch and glare,
We lie as beasts, as gods, as flame—
One holds the crown. One bears the chain.
