(WARNING: Sexually explicit material below and not for children under 18 years of age)
Sex is my religion, and he is the altar I worship. On my knees, impaled deep, so that I am open wide and vulnerable, full of him.

Full, full to the brim. He stretches my insides. Fills me in a way that I feel complete, inside, finally, and I cannot think of a life without him.
I grind my clit into him and groan, riding him without rhythm, grinding instead of bouncing, so that he is hitting all of my spots, and I come in a rush of spasms and deep moans. Crumple like paper on top of him, praying.
And he’s not done with me yet.
He is the altar to my religion, and he worships me, like I worship him. He places me on my stomach. I am barely coherent, still in the middle of my orgasm, letting him take over me.
His dick is still wet with my juices, and as I feel him nudging against my asshole, I spread my cheeks open for him.
I am his altar, and I am open for him.
He fucks my ass wildly. It’s intense, tight, and I can feel another orgasm building inside me. He senses this and gets on his knees, picks me up by the hips and pulls me back towards him, and then he slides both hands down to my clit, and we fuck, oh we fuck, until we both come, hollering like animals, and collapse.
He still inside me, and I am still coming, a hand still on my clit, another creeping up to my breasts. 
And we both love each other, like a religion.