The winds they howl; screaming, crying, lashing the cold, hard rain against the glass, uprooting earth and flowers and trees, destroying the material world once so solid beneath my feet.
The winds they howl; wailing, moaning, breathing life into this torment, this longing that tears mercilessly at this woman wanton, that whispers cruelly into the long deep dead of night, that caresses me with the sweet gruffness of his voice, the sound of my name on his lips, the weight of his body bearing down, his thick hard beguiling flesh, the hands possessing me tight, the touch, the kiss, the fire setting me free.
The winds they howl; groaning, yelling, words of dissonance, of resonance, remainders, reminders of the feelings that make perfect yet little sense, that flood my mind with its complexity, that knot my stomach, that seize my heart, that capture my skin and flesh and cunt and soul, racing, pulsing, pounding with its simplicity, that have me crazed and yearning, that have me wanting him, wanting us, needing you in every way, in every way I have imagined, in every way this passion has yet to conceive.
The winds they howl; the winds they howl. My love for you, the winds they howl.
This passion, this need, this desire coursing oily hot through my veins, this sensuality softly rising up, prickling my skin with its gleaming, scented sheen, this carnality tearing at my flesh and blood and bones through the dark hours and the light, this woman staring back at me in the silvery reflective glass.
This can't be tamed. I can't be tamed. And I'm unsure I even want to try.
If you only knew what I'd give right now to have you hold me, to have you want to hold me, to hold me tight, to hold me close, to hold me like you'll never let me go, to hold me until day becomes our velvet night, to hold me until the first rays of the morning light, to hold me until our heat turns into fire, our fire into ash, this ash into earth and flesh and blood and sweat and come, to hold me until our breath and kiss and delirious passion become one.
It’s almost late; it’s almost ten, the quiet of the night finally setting in. And the only thing I want right now is you in my bed.
On this night, I need its softness, your hardness, its crisp clean whiteness, your naked body spread out before me on the pristine purity I long to soil with our sweat, our slick, our come. On this night, I want to take you slowly, sensually, my impatience this once contained as I kiss you lightly, deeply, my lips and tongue tasting, devouring, my nose inhaling, drowning in your scent, my gaze tracing, my hands mapping, these fingers brushing, possessing, my cunt enveloping, acquiescing, my hips gliding, riding, your cock, your heat caressing, overtaking, our passion climbing, cresting, your deep voice groaning, your deep voice calling, your hot seed splashing, my fiery glisten coating, our spent bodies curling, entwining, our spent bodies even then ever yearning, my senses committing, memorising your power, your desire, your flesh, my senses drinking, drifting, falling, dreaming of the body magnetic, of the man by my side whose sweet, mellifluous breath leaves me in a daze.