I feel it in my trembling flesh and coursing blood, in the core of these very bones, in the sheen prickling my skin, in those parts of my body that do not possess the powers of speech, in those places within me that commune with the shadows, with the dangerous darkness at my feet.
I feel it. I feel it now.
I feel it with a force that stops me dead in my tracks, that presses me hard against this chill, that leaves me clutching and shielding, desperate to bare myself to your gaze, to your kiss, to the nuance of your touch, to the man and his strength, to the perfection of your flesh.
I feel it. I feel it now.
I feel this desire for you, this desire to know you, to know you absolutely, to know you in the process of being, to know you with a completeness that leaves us drunk and consumed and careening out of control, plunging into the depths of our unique and mutual yearnings.
I feel it. I feel it now.
I feel it all just as I feel you here with me, just as I feel the urgent and sensual passions that fuel your need, that pique your mind and excite your body, that taunt you as you mingle in the crowd, as you move through your day, as you immerse yourself in those rare moments of solitude, as your stroke your nakedness imagining my hands and lips, my trailing locks upon your skin, as you coax your shaft to thicken and harden, as you rouse the lover, the beast within, as you bring me close, as you draw me near, as you press my breast into your thudding heartbeat, as you lure my aching cunt to your cock, as we meet and fuse and fuck and make love, as we whisper and moan and release, as we close our eyes, as we sink into the night, our bodies together and free.
Before you leave me, before you reluctantly rise out of the tangled mess of the bed, before you run your hand along the table top, stroking the gleaming mahogany where our fused bodies exhausted their lust, before you step into the shower recess where you bathed me with the drops and the steam, with luxurious suds and your sensual caress, before I pat you dry, my lips brushing along the path of the towel, kissing each hollow of newly washed skin, before you dress and adorn and piece yourself together once more, each stitch in its rightful, sartorial place, I want to slide into the crisp white cotton of your shirt, my body engulfed by the fabric spectre of your imposing form, I want to bury my nose in your collar, envelop myself in your heady scent, I want to radiate into the weave my own warmth and perfume, the sweet aroma of my flesh, I want to glide its opening through the pouting lips of my cunt, staining each thread with the heat of my desire, leaving behind an indelible mark of my craving, my need to have you over and again.
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~ This Week’s Top Three Posts ~
The Bitch is Back - The temperature at the table drops several degrees. “Like that?,” I say. ”Is that what you want?”
On Women Who Like Sex - I like sex as much as any man I know. I am not a weirdo, I am not a slut, and I am not in any excessive danger.
Secret Secretary- There she was in the reception room on my couch, lying on her back, legs spread, skirt hiked up over her torso, her hands frantically feeling between her legs.
All blogs that have a submission in this edition must re-post this digest from tip-to-toe on their blogs within 7 days. Re-posting the photo is optional and the use of the “read more…” tag is allowable after this point. Thank you, and enjoy!
You are far from reach. And yet I wake with you. This inexplicable and enigmatic violet dawn, it breaks with you, with your scent filling this room, with your name on my lips, with the warmth of your skin somehow radiating through these hands, on these fingertips that cannot help but replace your touch, on the tips that vainly attempt to replicate your caress, on the tips, on the crimson peaks, on the creamy skin, on the scarlet flesh, on the woman ever yearning for your perfection.
It is destroyed, in tatters as soon your fingers trace the taut lines suspending the nylon sheathing my legs, as you brush away the delicate hands covering my modesty to reveal to your gaze, to your caress the bare mound, the impossibly smooth lips, the scarlet cunt dripping its want, its need onto my thighs, soaking the ebony stocking tops.
It is destroyed, this woman in ruins as I gasp, whimper, shiver, my body at long last betraying itself, betraying me and my desire and this passion for you, the wall pressed into my back my only support as you clutch at me, your palm registering the pulsation of my sex, your palm a cup for my slippery lust, your thumb stroking with a whispering softness the pearl you long to take between your hungry lips.
Once your touch finds me, once your caress begins to know me, once you lift me up and open me wide and ease your thick uncut cock inside me with a deliberate slowness that leaves me struggling for breath and for thought and for speech, that leaves its indelible mark on my most intimate flesh, that leaves me feeling you, feeling every inch of you, that has my cunt grasping, swallowing, feeding off your hard throbbing heat, that has my fingers digging into your back, clawing at the stucco, that has my legs wound tight around your waist, that has me aching and craving for more, I lose all control, my poise drains away and my body, this body, it gives itself over to you, it gives itself over to me, it gives, it surrenders utterly, completely.