Tuesday, May 31, 2011


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.

Thursday, May 26, 2011

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…)

Tuesday, May 24, 2011

The Rhythm of Desire


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.


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.


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.


Thursday, May 19, 2011

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…)

Saturday, May 14, 2011

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  

Thursday, May 12, 2011

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…)

Wednesday, May 11, 2011

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…)

Monday, May 9, 2011


Don’t go.

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.

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. The outside world can wait…

Thursday, May 5, 2011

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…)   

Tuesday, May 3, 2011

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.

Monday, May 2, 2011

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.