Stifle

It is his cock that stifles her scream.

It is the intensely thick, pulsating shaft languidly sliding between her full lips, teasing her flickering tongue, filling her slender throat, fucking her pretty little mouth that muffles the guttural cry from deep within her lithe body as he commands her to tease her cunt through the lace drenched in her liquid arousal, as he demands the removal of the white innocence bound tight around her hips, as he raises the succulent fabric to his nose and mouth, inhaling the dizzying perfume of her cock lust, drinking down the sweet musk of her desire.

HNT: Sixty-four

To gaze and map and kiss
With sweetness, sensual bliss
To have, to hold
To merge and melt and fuse
With body soft, with man desired
To linger, to know
To soothe and sate and pleasure seek
With the pink, in the golden glow
To give, to take
To feel and fuck and love
With indulgence, decadence complete
Is to live

(Remember to knock on Osbasso’s door to see this week’s gorgeous players…)

The Rhythm of Desire

Want
Want
Want
Want

It beats its rhythm, every moment, every hour, every day, shaking me from my slumber, waking me in the dead night, reminding me, taunting me, taunting this body, this feminine flesh weak and alive, compelling my hands to reach out and touch, my lips to feed and caress, my legs, my cunt to open and bloom wide and electric for the breath and the skin and the man and his thick, hard, completing heat.

Want
Want
Want
Want

It is my pulse, my gait, my grind, my sensual arc and bend and curve, my essence, my measure, the quantifiable measure of my need, of my cock lust, of my obsession, of my passion for his mind and his body and his sexual soul, for the flesh that perfects, for the kiss that consumes, for the cunt lust that propels his own rapid heartbeat.

Want
Want
Want
Want

It drives me, slows me, begins and ends me, it tears me to shreds and pieces me back together again, this want, this hunger, this need, this desire for pleasure in its infinite variety, this desire for the wanton, the carnal, the erotic, this desire for the multiplicity we crave and we seek, this desire, this desire, this desire for him, for him, for him.

Want
Want
Want
Want

HNT: Sixty-three

Through the dark of night

Across skies and lands and seas

I'll be your star

I'll be your light

I'll guide your way

Back here

To me

(Remember to knock on Osbasso’s door to wish him a Happy 6th HNT Anniversary
and to see this week’s gorgeous players…)

Fuck The Words

Fuck the words
Let them go
Give me your grunt, your growl, your moan
Grant me hard flesh, control, your power
Make me shudder, scream, surrender
Pound me mute, pound our come through the silence
Fuck the words
The body beckons  

HNT: Sixty-two

 

On his command, her hands will chart the path from her neck to her breasts to her hips, delicate fingers teasing, finally easing the ebony netting past fair pouting flesh as she bends deeply at the waist, exposing her glistening sex to the light, to his gaze, to his hunger.

(Remember to knock on Osbasso’s door to see this week’s gorgeous players…)

Cover Girl

I have a confession to make.

I’ve harboured a dream, a desire, for quite some time. I’m sure it will come as little surprise considering this Antipodean’s fondness for exhibitionist self-portraiture.

Ever since I was old enough to appreciate its allure, ever since I could grasp its magnetism, I wanted to be the one gracing a glossy cover; to be the face or the body, to be the woman, who represents if not an ideal beauty then an idea, a mood, a sensation, a play on shadow and light, a feminine sensuality and sexuality born of the everyday.

It seems a certain Easily Aroused English gentleman has seen fit to make this dream a reality. This extremely fortunate Minx – and her self-portrait – adorn the cover of his newest collection of erotic fiction: Concupiscent. 

If, by some chance, you haven’t had the good fortune to stumble across his exquisitely erotic and decadent work, make haste… Go ... Read ... Indulge ... (And buy ...) You won’t regret it. You can trust me on that.

And once you’ve recovered from the sensual and carnal pleasures and exertions that invariably follow an encounter with such words, make your way back here. Why? Because I have some book news of my own coming your way very soon…

Minx x

(To you EA, my heartfelt thanks and gratitude for thinking my image a fitting accompaniment to the wondrous words that invariably leave me in a tailspin. I am honoured to be your cover girl…)

Stay

Don’t go.
Stay.

Lie by my side, curl your nakedness into mine, caress then spread the legs raised up high, fit your imposing body into this here aching flesh, swim, swim, dive and plunge into the warmth, into the heat, into the tight velvet embrace, into this sensation, this moment enslaving and pure.

Don’t go.
Stay.

Let me kiss your tiredness away, allow my lips to tease and tempt you, to taste and know you, to breathe you back to life, to lead you into the shadows, to guide you into the light, to stain your pulsating flesh with scarlet signs of burning passion, to lick the pearls of your arousal glistening, to worship at the body, at the cock, at the man who inspires and sates my infinite yearning.

Don’t go.
Stay.

Stay. Stay. Stay. The outside world can wait…

HNT: Sixty-one

Wrap yourself

In cotton crisp

In feathers fine

In woman wanting, warm and willing

(Remember to knock on Osbasso’s door to see this week’s gorgeous players…)   

I Want...

I want your cock. I want it as no other, hunger for it as never before.

I want your cock. I want to rouse it from its slumber, tease it to hard, thick, glistening life. I want to feel it pulsing in my hand, in my mouth, in my cunt, in my rosebud.

I want your cock. I want to rouge my lips blood, shiny red and stain your shaft with my sultry kiss. I want to open the hot, wet tunnel between these lips, sliding you in, gliding you down, tasting, devouring the very essence of man.

I want your cock. I want the cock of the gentleman seasoned and contained, the cock of the teenage boy on the very edge of his self-control. I want to bury your uncut meat so deep inside me your body growls and soars, your searing cream spilling forth urgently, violently to mark my soft fair skin, my bright clutching walls.

I want your cock. I want it all to myself, selfishly taking and feasting on the flesh and the come and the man yearned for by so many. I want to please and pleasure it, charm and beguile it, captivate it, claim it as my very own.

I want your cock. Yesterday, today and tomorrow. Your cock is all I want.

Free Fall

In that moment, she loses herself completely.

In that moment when his seductive body finally kisses her supple flesh, when his hands sensually travel along the curve of her hips, the taut line of her abdomen, when his lips and tongue circle the tender swell of her breasts, rousing the pale halos into aching peaks, when his mouth urgently devours her glistening sex, taking her to the very edge and back again, when his fingers mercilessly tease the rosebud with promises maddening, when his hard cock slowly invades her sweet, enveloping tightness, when his pulsing meat is buried so deep he cries out her name, when his molten gaze fixes, melts into the blue, she free falls into the abyss, drowning in its primal darkness, basking in its blinding light, floating on the quotidian jetsam at long last a faint and distant memory.

HNT: Sixty

In the end, it is her very own hand that betrays her: it is the vein rippling her ordinarily fair, silken surface; it is the blood, slick and fiery, coursing with a maddening need; it is the slight tremor of the slender digits curved in aching readiness to caress the skin crying out for his flesh, screaming out for release; it is her perpetually desiring body that offers her up, proving to him, beyond a shadow of a doubt, she is his present, she is his past, she is his seductively sweet and carnal hereafter.

(Remember to knock on Osbasso’s door to see this week’s gorgeous players…)

e[lust] #25

 Photo courtesy of Sadie

Welcome to e[lust] - Your source for sexual intelligence and inspirations of lust from the smartest & sexiest bloggers! Whether you’re looking for hot steamy smut, thought-provoking opinions or expert information, you’re going to find it here. And in this edition you can read all about the best sexuality conference of the year (ever?), Momentum, in a one-time-only Editor's Choice anomaly: I couldn't choose just one, so I chose them all! Want to be included in e[lust] #26? Start with the rules and subscribe to the RSS feed for updates!


~ This Week’s Top Three Posts ~

Where We Are - It was only supposed to be about the fucking. I don't know how I convinced myself that it could be. I fretted before we began, about how I could ever possibly separate sex from emotion.

The Edible Slut - His hand made an audible crack as it connected with her ass, loud in the dim bedroom. Did he really sink his hand into her hair, turn her head to face him, and shout, “Stop being such a brat!”

Beyond Bisexual - I don’t identify as bisexual, because I am interested in so many more people than just two of the variety of sexes or genders out there. Except, that is a word that a lot of people understand.


~ Featured: Momentum Conference Posts (Lilly’s Picks) ~

An Extraordinary Gathering (and a Gathering of the Extraordinary)

 Finally! A Real Momentum Post

 Inspired by MomentumCon

 #mcon Rehash

 Momentum

 Momentumcon, Part One


~ e[lust] Editress ~

To Be or Not To Be....Anonymous, That Is - If you’re out or decide to be out….you’re not just outing yourself. You’re outing them all. And did they give their consent? Probably not, I’d guess. And even if they did give their consent could they even have a clue what consequences there will be?


All blogs that have a submission in this edition must re-post this digest from tip-to-toe on their blogs within 7 days. Thank you, and enjoy!


Thoughts & Advice on Sex & Relationships

A Bump In The Road - A Swinger Party Goes Bad

 Bridging the Gap (Between Swinging and BDSM)

 con-sent

 Eating Pussy

 Jane Says: What Does Sex Feel Like For A Man?

 Let's talk about food

 Safe Word

 S&M And Abuse

 The Rules, Revisited

 The Wet Patch

 Who Cares About Your Open Relationship

 Where There's Smoke...


Kink & Fetish

BDSM Advice: Nipple Clamps

 bloodfucking

 Communicating by touch

 Consent [Violated]

 Debasement

 getting ready...

 He mixed pleasure and pain, and my body responded to it all

 Invitation

 Stolen

 Safety Scissors

 Topping From the Bottom: An Ode

 Wantonly Restrained

 You Can Make It Feel So Real


Erotic Writing

3. Wrath

 Cunt Licking

 Definition of Inspiration

 Linger

 Miss Me?

 My Sex Life: The Journey Continues, Part 2

 Silk Memories

 Sexy Dance-Ing

 teacher sweaters and the cock that haunts me

 The Casino

 The miseducation of Ms. Mullins

 Wow. Confession #558

 When I come

 WWWednesday

 You Want This

Breath

Breath
Sultry and hushed
Mapping, beseeching

Breath
Fiery and raspy
Insistent, deafening

Breath
Dancing on silken skin
At one with the knowing kiss

Breath
Whispered into the glisten
Exhaled into this suffering flesh

Breath
Taunting and merging
Your breath
Forever I am craving

HNT: Fifty-nine

The hat?

It stays put.

But every other thread is negotiable.

(Remember to knock on Osbasso’s door to see this week’s gorgeous players…)  

Linger

I don’t want to rush. Not tonight. Not tonight.

Tonight, I want to linger, I want to stop time. I want to seize it, bend it, break it wide open, charging each endless moment with you, losing myself in fulfilling every one of your deepest, darkest desires.

I don’t want to rush. Not tonight. Not tonight.

Tonight, I need to feel and touch, caress, absorbing and consuming, venerating and possessing, my hands on your torso pressing you back gently into the wall, my hands gliding up along the soft, sweet curve of your neck, my hands travelling down spreading you wide, your thighs now mine, releasing the binds, the buttons, the prison keeping you hidden from my sight, my hands sliding, languorously stroking the eager thickening shaft, sliding, sensually weaving through the curls on your heaving chest, sliding, seductively curling around the tensing muscles of your nape, sliding, beguiling, captivating the space that cruelly separates, sliding, luring, finally delivering your lips, your breath, your groan, your kiss.

I don’t want to rush. Not tonight. Not tonight.

Tonight, I yearn to drown in your scent, to taste and feed on your flesh, devour the heat rising up through your skin, the passion simmering your mind, your very soul. I yearn to bury my nose in deep, inhaling the pungent perfume of your maleness, the tip tickling, tracing each smooth, perfect, willing hollow, the tip teasing, taunting, feather lips and tongue soon after follow, my mouth tormenting with its lightness, with the silken peaks so new and familiar, my mouth sating with its gluttony, with the urgent deepness of its swallow, my mouth, my lips, my tongue roaming, exploring, gorging on the meat throbbing, aching, on the pearls nestling, on the cockhead dripping, on the jewels, on the feast, on the shine with a freedom, with a hunger, with an addiction abandoned, enslaving.

I don’t want to rush. Not tonight. Not tonight.

Tonight, I crave our merging, our melting, our nakedly intimate union, our bodies bathed in shadows of sepia enigma, enveloped in hushed, sultry tones, our bodies seeking, questing, opening, giving, taking as I sink down onto your hard waiting flesh, as I take you deep into my tight velvet cunt, as I moan with the ecstasy of your life force pulsing inside me, as you groan with a power that steals the rapid heartbeat, as I ride you with languid undulation, as I ride you with fevered concentration, my hips swirling, flowing, my swollen clitoris pressing, rubbing, your glans filling, stretching, your cockhead straining at my limits, my sex grasping at your own, your hands mapping, caressing the fairest of thighs, the pert swell of my breasts, your body soaring, ascending, my fingers digging, branding, our gaze locking, eyes glowing with the fire, with the hunger for release, for that sweet and violent release, for the cream, for the flood, for the come that will mark you as mine, for the come that will mark me as yours, for the liquid heat, for the scolding libations longed for as no other, eyes glowing with the longing and the want and the need and the yearning and the craving for more, for more, for more … evermore.

I don’t want to rush. Not tonight. Not tonight.

HNT: Fifty-eight

Let me be

The pink

The state of your purest pleasure

Let me be
The one
The temptress in your mirror

(Remember to knock on Osbasso’s door to see this week’s gorgeous players…) 

Into the Night

Into your mouth
I exhale
The words of my lust
My lascivious greed

Into your skin
I release
The craving to taste
My kiss all-consuming

Into my cunt
You feed
Your thick eager shaft
The flesh which perfects me

Into the night
We make love
The sensual merging
Our unique carnal union

HNT: Fifty-seven

His gaze. His gaze. His gaze.

It transforms light into shadow, shadow into dark molten desire. It compels her to offer up her flesh for sacrifice, for worship, for debasement. It strips her bare, destroys her inhibitions, shreds every last vestige of her naked shame. It whispers, it speaks, it screams at her, to her, with a recognition that possesses the wanton terrain. It lures her to him time and again, tempting the woman, enticing the lover, binding the whore, caressing the erotic longings on her very surface, grasping the carnality buried deep within.

(Remember to knock on Osbasso’s door to see this week’s gorgeous players…)

Altered State

You’ve changed me. You’ve changed me and my desire.

No, no. You’ve done more than that.

You’ve ruined it and me. You’ve ruined us, spent and consumed us. Unknowingly, unwittingly. Softly, slowly, sensuously. Ruthlessly and callously.

And even as I continue to want you, even as the thought of you has my cunt dripping its sweet nectar, even as that glisten fuses my bright flesh to the pink girlish cotton, even as I seek out my sex and come hard and loud with a speed that leaves me violently breathless, I hate you a little for that.