Vintage

It feels as old as time itself tonight; a burden, a weight, an affliction I simply can not escape.

And yet, it is just as alive, enticing, maddening as it was in our beginning, in that first moment my gaze fell upon your flesh, in the instant your deep voice washed over me, your desire whispered hotly into my skin, in the moment of profound and passionate recognition, of eyes locked, hearts thundering, of the breath of life through our kiss.

These Walls

I would scale these walls to find you, I would blind myself in the light, I would walk in the shadows, through the depths of the dark, I would drive my body through these bricks, this mortar, I would tear down this fortress with my bare, delicate hands if I knew you yearn for my touch, if I knew you long for the kiss of my skin, if I knew you reach out for my lips in the night, if I knew you desire without restraint or reserve, if I knew you were near or afar, if I knew you were ardent and free.

Gaze

It is yours I imagine; it is yours I crave.

It is your gaze, furtive and dark, voracious, unflinching, penetrating, I see reflected back as I stand before the glass slowly unveiling my nakedness, your molten eyes devouring my every detail, my every move, the zipper sliding, the clasps released, the fitted skirt, the satin shirt a tangle at my feet, my shoulders shrugging away the straps, these fingers easing down the lace to reveal the crimson peaks you hunger to take between your lips, my hand cupping the sodden ebony covering my sex, these hips grinding, my mound mashed into this palm, this sensual dance inflaming the ache, intensifying the need to tease away the fabric fused to my scarlet flesh, to have you drop to your knees between my legs brazenly open wide, to have your body marked in my scent, to have your mouth lap at the smoothness of my dripping cunt and the clitoris throbbing, pulsing, longing for your deep tongue kiss, to have you taste me, drink me down, to have you drive me to the screaming edge, to have you against me, buried inside me, to have you possess me with a softness then a violence neither one of us can resist.

Into the Ache

Lay your body down, lay it close to me, slide yourself into the hollow, into the shadow,
into my ache, into the velvet crying, yearning for your hot and hard perfection.

Winter’s Yearning

Lover… 

Are you out there? Are you waiting for me? Are you in a different city by a vastly different sea? Are you bathing in the balmy glow of the moon as I warm my skin in the soft rays of the winter sun? Are you greeting a brand new day while I slide this nakedness into my feathery nest? Are you longing for me, for the intensity, the passion, the intimacy a true union can bring? Are you gazing out at this very moment wondering about the woman, the girl, the temptress you are yet to meet?

Blue Note and Neon

First, the reflection of light; splashes of lolly pink and cobalt and blinding white, neon on darkened glass, on mirrored artificial spaces locked up and abandoned for the night. Then, footsteps; my own and those of others, the clack of heels on concrete and blacktop, suited men and women, bodies separately together, the weekday crowd heaving, weaving its way to home and solace, places near and afar, the honk of horns impatient and angry, the wind whipping, chilling, the glowing crowns of taxi cabs speeding down the hill, away from the gardens and the park, towards bridges over water, towards the inky black harbour and its maze of side streets and alleys, towards the sandstone structures with their stories of love and lust and heartache to tell.

And through it all, there’s a man on the corner, a metal piece pressed to his lips. And through it all, there’s a man on the corner, his fingers woven around gleaming brass. And through it all, there’s a man on the corner, his blue note slicing the clamour, the commotion, his blue note arresting my feet and my gaze, my attention, winding its way through my body, coursing, surging, etching itself into this shivering flesh, this blue note inspiring the ache, rousing the longing, the yearning, the vision of his hands upon me, his hands tracing these contours and curves, his mouth silencing my whispers, these words, his sensual kiss drowning, killing me softly, his rough kiss bringing me back to this cold, hard life, his body teasing me, mocking me, his hips grinding, taunting me with the flesh most desired, with the cock thick, hard and glistening, with the cock unlike any other within memory, his cock sliding through the slickness of my folds, his head circling, flickering my plump and throbbing clitoris, his cockhead nudging at the portal, at the point of delicious resistance, filling me with the taste that sets me moaning, with the taste that has me begging, with the taste of flesh, with the kiss of skin, with the second, the instant, the moment where he can truly take me, where his eyes can sink into me, where his sexual soul can see clear, can know me, where his hands can possess this softness, where his shaft can plunge to the sodden limit, to the clutching hilt, where he can fuck me with deep, seductive perfection, where his man can be at one with my woman, where our fucking, our love making, our union leaves us alive, addicted and breathless, shattering time and space, renewing the passion that flows without effort between us, the passion that runs through our lifeblood, through our days and our nights and each season that passes, the passion now called by that blue note, by this lone note suspending our desire in the ether.

Sapphire

I am bound, bound by your gaze slicing through the night, by the sapphire glow of this desire, bound by the carnal need stripping my slight body bare, by your thick hard flesh taking me to our very edge, bound by the strong hands on my hips, by the sweat pooling in my back, bound by the fire we exhale into the winter’s dark, bound by the deep softness of your kiss in the aftermath.

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