Monday, November 29, 2010


As the darkness blankets the sky, as the approaching witching hour sings its silence,
I long to worship and indulge you, to make love to you, to know the man who sets this restless ache, who leaves me craving always for just one more taste, who compels me to want nothing more than to coax and tease and entice his flesh to release the cream of his passion with the heated whispers of my own yearning, with butterfly kisses and the trails of this slick, eager tongue, with hands and fingers, lightly touching, possessing, stroking, with the searing velvet dripping its sweet liquid lust, with my hips gliding, back arching, legs entwining, with the tender grip of my violent desire, with all that I am, with everything you require.

Thursday, November 25, 2010

HNT: Thirty-eight

You say you want me
You say you need me
Through growls and whispers
Taunting, teasing
Through touch and kiss
Possessing, intoxicating
Come take me now
Don’t keep us waiting

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

Monday, November 22, 2010

Punch Drunk


Your face, your voice, your body; your thoughts and words and desire.


Your dark, smiling eyes, your tickling beard, your maddening, masculine scent.

You. You. You.

You dizzy my mind, ignite my flesh. You speak to them both. No, you do more than that. You whisper and sing to them; you craze and soothe them; you groan and scream at them. You seduce them and me. We are powerless, us three. We can not resist. You make us want you.

You make me want you.

You intoxicate, you possess; you make me long through the morning, through the night for the man, the lover, the beast. You make me yearn for your hard uncut meat, for your fingering touch, for your sensual kiss, for your overwhelming heat, for a taste of the first glistening pearl of your arousal, for the talk and the laughter and the silence and the being as our spent, tangled bodies recover in the low afternoon light. You make ache with a lust and a passion that drive all thoughts from my head, that strike my fair form at each and every moment, that compel my hands to sate this slick, needy flesh when you are cruelly out of reach.

You. I’m drunk on you. I'm drunk on you already. And I never want to be sober again.

Thursday, November 18, 2010

HNT: Thirty-seven

Hands tame the wild tousle
Lashes flutter against the bright
Her fairness curving, smiling, swaying
Ready to take flight
Ready to float away
Into the deepest starry yonder
On the sweetest, softest
Thoughts and dreams
Of him


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

Sunday, November 14, 2010

Right Now…

... My sex is so soft, so plump, so intensely slick my panties are fused to my bright flesh. This is the result of thinking about you, thinking about your face, your body, imagining ours mouths locked in the perfect kiss, slow and sensual, then urgent and bruising, our mingled breath already hot and ragged and shallow. Breaking away, my lips and tongue give and take and explore, brushing, dipping, licking the sweet, clean skin of your neck, travelling along its curve, moving down, down, down to your chest, to your hips, branding you as mine in their wake, my tousled curls leaving a teasing trail as I savour and consume you, my long, delicate fingers finding your throbbing hardness, grazing, tracing every ridge of your thick shaft before finally entwining the meat most desired, stroking you slowly, slowly, oh so slowly, my gaze now fixed to your desiring eyes, my thumb circling your burnished head, smearing you with the glisten I long to taste.

... My tight red knickers are deliciously constricting, hugging my hips and bottom and mound. As I sit here in the close, spring heat, I’m teasing myself over the thin cotton fabric, mapping the damp spot growing ever larger, prolonging the moment my fingers find my need as I hunger for your nakedness here in my bed, as I hunger to know every last inch of you, as I hunger for you to drink from my cup, as I hunger for your glans between these pink, sticky lips, as I hunger for you to bury yourself deep, deep inside me, my hips rocking, my pelvis grinding, our flesh melting, merging in the bliss, swallowing your groans and words of desire, our climax breaking the still of the night, your hot seed coating the walls of my velvet, my fair, lissom form your canvas to paint and create.

... My entire body burns with its fevered ache; my entire being calls out for you and you alone, its need to have you near me, next to me, inside me too great. In a very short while, I’ll move off into the bedroom, shedding the fabric along the way, fashioning a path for you to blindly follow. When I reach the white covered expanse facing the large mirror, I’ll perch myself on its very edge, spreading my creamy thighs wide, wide, wider until I see the gloss shining in the low light, until I feel my crazed passion rising up and breaking free. Then, and only then, will I fuck myself with my silicone proxy, slipping and sliding the thick shaft along my portal, circling and teasing my clitoris, before nudging it into my cunt inch by glorious inch, watching my petite form surrender to a pleasure at once too much and not enough. And as I fuck myself for you, for me, as I thrust the cock in and out, in and out of me, as I watch my body arch and buck and writhe, as I watch the lust lining my face, as I allow my mind to sink into you, as I allow my body to drown in you, as I allow you to take me over even at so far a remove, as I moan and scream and cry out my orgasm, it will be your name on these lips, it will be the name of the man I want with a softness and a violence that surprises even me.

Thursday, November 11, 2010

HNT: Thirty-six

In the flicker of an eye, she appears before him in the low lit entrance, dressed in the deepest midnight black, as if conjured from the innermost recesses of his base imaginings. Guided by the seductively guttural moan of the jazz trumpet, she languidly slinks to the wall, pressing her petite frame into the stucco, her long fingers beginning the slow release, teasing open each clasp to reveal the satin, the lace and the firm, ready flesh to his transfixed gaze.

Moving toward her with an ease that betrays nothing of the urgency rising up inside him, he curls his hand around the growing swell straining the tailored suiting, relishing the fiery passion his intensely masculine arousal ignites, savouring his powerful hold over this rapacious woman.

Yet, as her look once again joins his, as the raspy breath escapes her glistening mouth, as she sensually strokes the swollen slickness down below, as she opens herself up for him, to him, his possession dissolves in an instant, her dangerous shadows unwittingly drawing him in, her unbound desire wordlessly calling him into her velvet web.

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

Wednesday, November 10, 2010


“Be a woman. It’s a powerful business when done correctly.”
Bobbie Barrett, Mad Men

Sunday, November 7, 2010


As they crash over her one after the other, as they roar up through the petite body flushing her fair skin and swelling her dripping cunt, as they come in quick and thunderous succession intermittently driving out the breath from her lungs, she exhales the sweet syllables of his name, longing for his liquid lust, yearning for his scorching seed, aching to be filled with the cream of his climax, needing above all else, the tangible trace of his desire.

Thursday, November 4, 2010

HNT: Thirty-five

I shed the veil
Of the past, of the wounds, of the limits that once contained me

I shed the veil
Through the word, through the deed, through the expression of my desire

I shed the veil
To embrace the mind and the body, to enfold the woman rising up inside me

I shed the veil
From this skin, from this flesh, for the man I crave to kiss and hold and taste

I shed the veil
Every moment, every day, every month of this past year

I shed the veil
For me, you, for us, my lone and collective witness

I shed the veil
On the femme, on the vamp, on the minx, cheeky, dark and light

I shed the veil
I shed my veil
And at long last
I am released, recovered, reborn


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

Monday, November 1, 2010

Night and Day

You have no idea just how intensely I crave you. You have no idea how crazed and dizzying that craving. You have no idea just how I crave your mouth and its kiss, your hands and their touch, your scent and skin and heat.

Night and day.

You have no idea just how much I want to feel you, to feel your overwhelming masculinity, to feel your fingers gliding over my fairness, your thick hard cock slowly filling me to the brim, to feel you moving in and out of me, to feel your seed coating my most intimate depths, painting my breasts and stomach and thighs, glossing my lips and tongue.

Night and day.

You have no idea just how I need to feel you under me, to fit my body into yours, grind myself into you, my soft, swollen sex sliding along your uncut flesh, your burnished head teasing my clitoris, my climax screaming out of me, the scorched liquid lust coating and marking and branding you as my own, our mouths urgently feeding off your bruising kiss.

Night and day.

You have no idea just how I long to surrender to you, to have you surrender to me, to have you unleash your carnality upon me, to have you shred and rip and tear the cloth covering my slight form, to have you push me into that wall, to have you take me from behind, to have you fuck me, truly possess me as no other man has ever done.

Night and day.

You have no idea how I yearn to fuck you, to make love to you, hidden away, in plain sight, alone, with others, on a bed, on the floor, in the shower, bent over your desk at work, in front of a glowing movie screen, on a fast moving train, your fingers disappearing into my hot velvet cunt as my delicate hand strokes your slick, aroused flesh.

Night and day.

You have no idea how I ache to worship you, to taste you, to devour you, leaving nothing but your bones, how I ache to hear your raspy breath, to see the desire lighting your eyes, to sink into the man who inflames my body and mind.

Night and day. Day and night. Night and day.