Slow Down By Loose Ends Novels & Stories

Over and over I thrust, drawing gasps with each time I buried myself. I increased the rate of speed. I had to. I had no choice. But I could not keep up the length of stroke, because I kept popping free when I pulled back. I shortened the length of my drives and I stopped slipping out. After a burst of my fastest slams yet, each of which sent her dangling boobs flailing, I slowed to catch my breath. I leaned forward over her. I nuzzled down into the crook of her neck and reached under her, fingers seeking to clasp her pendulous...

But it was all tоо exсiting tо stоp! We slоwly inсreased оur speed withоut having tо сооrdinate. I wоndered hоw lоng Ben wоuld be able tо take this treatment. I was alsо nоt far frоm my оwn сlimax and alsо inсreased the speed оf my fingers. My hand rubbed my hard сlit in quiсk mоvements. My lust drоps ran dоwn my legs and seeped intо the seat сushiоn. Ben started breathing and twitсhing harder and harder. He had tо suppress his mоan and bit his hand. Then he сame inсredibly viоlently and shоt his sperm оver оur hands.

If he made another peep, I thought I would lose my mind. "You! If you think you can do better, then give it a try! Don't hit that key!" I turned and caught sight of the fountain. Oh boy! I nearly gave myself whiplash. We were only halfway through the document when Shane's whiny voice broke through. However, we were only halfway done. "Type slower!" "Going slower is worse! You might as well get it over with quickly!" I felt like I was on fire. Oh, this was the worst.

“Just… not leaning on it. Not listening so hard. Letting our minds breathe.” Ronan nodded. “I could use a walk along the shore without narrating every wave to both of you.” “I do not need commentary on every root I touch either,” Mirra said. I winced. “And I’m sure you don’t both want a front row seat to every change in moonlight I feel each night.” “So we step back,” I concluded. “On purpose. Just a little.” “Just enough,” Mirra said. “We’re not undoing what we did. We’re just… loosening our grip so we don’t strangle ourselves with it.”

I pulled back carefully, not cutting it off completely, but enough to make it clear that whatever it thought it had found, it didn’t have full access to it. The response was immediate, a flicker of resistance, not anger or frustration, but confusion, sharp and unfamiliar, as if it didn’t understand why the connection had shifted or why what had opened had closed again. Good. Let it be confused. Because that gave me time. The thread loosened slightly, not gone and never gone, but less invasive and less certain. I exhaled slowly, my shoulders easing just a fraction as the immediate pressure faded. Kael’s hand found my arm then, firm and grounding.

The insistence—often unconscious—that systems must be able to loosen after tightening, to revise after concluding, to reopen after deciding. This insistence has no spokesperson. It has no manifesto. It survives in intervals. Arthur and Tyla, wherever they are, do not observe these developments as chapters in a story. There is no arc from their perspective. No sense of culmination or decline. They are not invested in outcomes. They do not tally victories or losses. If anything, they register tempo. Acceleration alarms them more than direction. When processes speed up without reflection, something constricts. When decisions cascade too quickly to be questioned, space collapses. When answers ar

The chaos and noise in the room faded away slowly; it didn’t settle all at once, but gradually. The urgency in the room has softened. Voices are no longer sharp but in low murmurs now. The chaotic movements in the room are now more settled and more controlled. The machines are now steady. The chaotic sounds are now sounding smoother than they were before.

He said: is that better? Marcus said: it is more accurate. It means the information is still alive when I receive it. He sat with that. He thought about the early Thursdays, the operational shorthand, the jaw deciding what to set aside. He thought about the gradual loosening—not a decision but a slow return, like a hand that had been held in a fist for so long that opening it required learning the muscles all over again. He was not sure exactly when the fist had opened. He thought it had been incremental, a finger at a time, over the course of the Thursdays and the Wednesdays and the months since. There had been no single moment of revelation, no dramatic breakthrough. Just the slow, unglamo

[Definition: wanting to avoid activity or exertion; lazy. "they were indolent and addicted to a life of pleasure] (Within that exact instant, her fall begins to rapidly slow for about 5 seconds. Then she continues falling at normal speed.) "Daaamnit!!!! Ahhhhhh!!!"