Thursday, March 29, 2012


She stands tall, she stands strong, she stands weak, riven and complete, alive as she has never been, a poised and slick and shivering contradiction at the mercy of his heat, craving, always craving his sweet touch, his thick, hard, perfecting flesh, longing him to traverse this cruel distance, this cold ticking time, this punishing space, silently pleading him to damn all consequence, to abandon his control, to cede to his passions, to the lust destroying her, to the need consuming them both.

Tuesday, March 27, 2012


My desire for you turns my rationality on its head. It always has. I suspect it always will. It leaves my stomach in knots, my mind crazed, this body on fire, so much so I fear for it, fear this passion will destroy, incinerate, reducing me to nothing but ash and dust, leaving nothing of worth for any other man.

And yet, I care little for my annihilation if it’s at your hand, if it’s at the altar of the man who embodies all that is erotic, all that is possibility, if it’s your body, your imposing strength, your hard thick intensely masculine flesh that takes possession of the woman I now am, of my bare and warm skin, of this slight form draped in the seductive accoutrements of all that is feminine, of the breasts and rosy peaks reaching out for the lightest of caresses, of the lips ever yearning for the softness of your mouth, for your throbbing and glistening sex, of the bright cunt coating your naked cock in this fiery essence, fucking me with your deep and carnal lust, making slow sensual love to me in the dark until you splash your seed, until I release my flood, until I draw the blood on your back, until you bruise me, until we mark, until you guide us, our moans and screams and barely whispered words to the light.

Thursday, March 22, 2012


If you were here, if you were mine, if we gave of ourselves completely, without reserve, just one more time, I would kneel before you, kiss your body with my warm skin, worship the man, the flesh hard and masculine, I would venerate, idolise, devour with soft lips, with velvet heat, with innocence and sin, I would open, give, surrender myself to you as I’ve only dared in my dreams.

Tuesday, March 20, 2012


She dips the brush into the small glass pot with delicate precision, immersing the bristles into the viscous varnish before gingerly hovering over her waiting nails, the first drops trickling a sensuous path down the plastic spines and finally free falling to splatter and gloss and transform the untouched purity on the end of her silky feet.

With each stroke, with each coat, her nails deepen and darken, the shallow red morphing into fresh cherry then lustrous ruby and ultimately the decadent scarlet of the wanton seductress never far from her surface, of the femme fatale whose craving for man, dangerous and overwhelming, engulfs her in the dead of night.

As she watches her toes bloom and glisten, she is reminded of her other scarlet place, the one held tight now by the fine ebony mesh bound around her hips, the pillowy mound accented with the shadow of a finely manicured triangle, the tip leading its way to the lips now impossibly smooth, to the petals plump and bright and yet again on fire as his voice, his words, his desire come back to her, working their way into her body, etching themselves into her very flesh.

With that smallest recollection, with that fleeting thought, he is suddenly there in front her, urging her to touch herself, to hook her feet and scarlet toes over the edge of the coffee table and spread herself open beneath the fine panties, to trace the lines of her full labia and the aching clitoris reaching out for his lips, to tease the wetness from her body until the mesh can no longer stand the flood, until the weave of the fabric gives out and her lust runs hotly down the insides of her thighs, her fingers circling, her palm then rubbing as he sits between her fair legs and begins to drink her in, kissing and licking through the black mesh, rasping his tongue across the material, pressing it into her cleft, into her cunt, drawing out her craving, her need to have him shred the fabric and bare her sex to the cool air, to the flat of his tongue, to have his mouth, his lips, his kiss against her naked flesh, to sate his desire to taste her, to hear her arousal, to have her hot sex pressed against his mouth until he can’t breathe without tasting her, without inhaling her, until his beard is literally sodden with her lust, until he feels orgasm after orgasm ripple then roar through her slight trembling frame, until his own visibly throbbing and oozing glans can take the torture no longer, until the promise of her mouth, her body, her oiled velvet heat opening up to him, utterly and completely, is too much to bear. 

Saturday, March 17, 2012

e[lust] #34

Photo Courtesy of JM from There is No Spoon!

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. Want to be included in e[lust] #35 ? Start with the rules, check out the schedule and subscribe to the RSS feed for updates! Note: Wondering why there is no Top 3 this edition? Read the latest Editor's Note to find out why, and what you can do to help prevent this from happening in the future.

~ Featured Posts (Picked by Lilly) ~
The Ultrasound and the Fury- I cried softly and my partner moved closer to the table so I could lay my cheek against him for comfort and support. Then they brandished a wand and explained they needed to take pictures inside of me. And told him to get out.
Vagina in the Wild - Adventures in Pantslessness - They are self-cleaning and self-lubricating. They are a wonderfully well designed body part that speaks of feminine power and beauty. They leave wet spots on the couch.

~ e[lust] Editress ~
The Ultimate Guide to Silicone Sex Toys – With Metis Black of Tantus, Inc. - I picked the brain of Metis Black, the fabulous woman behind Tantus Inc, makers of some very awesome silicone sex toys. Get your sex geek on and find out some myths and facts about silicone sex toys!
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!

Kink & Fetish

Sex News, Interviews, Politics & Humor

Thoughts & Advice on Sex & Relationships

Erotic Writing

Wednesday, March 14, 2012

Bring On The Night

Leave the words behind
For they merely tear us asunder
Give instead your body, your flesh
Grant me the depths of your desire
Forget the limits, the boundaries
Cast the sobering day aside
Come to me, drink me in
Bring on the night

Wednesday, March 7, 2012

When He Speaks

When he speaks, from near and from afar, when he speaks into her fair skin in the dark, when he speaks into the trembling flesh pressed into the cool stucco of the wall, when he speaks the unutterable desire surging, coursing, burning inside her, when he speaks to the passions that render her own soft voice mute, when he speaks her name, the syllables released, caressed by his breath, when he speaks, when he confesses, when his deep and accented rumble admits his body yearns for her touch, his lips for her kiss, his cock for her cunt, when he speaks the words she holds close, she holds dear, when he speaks of her, when he speaks to her, when he speaks this woman is his.

Sunday, March 4, 2012


I've barely been able to order my thoughts all day; my desire for you is so overwhelming. My mind and body are reeling, swimming, drowning in the possibilities, in the vision of you tearing and shredding the clothes from my body and taking me from behind, possessing me with every ounce of your control, with every ounce of your abandon, fucking me like a beast seizing, conquering its prey, your will and restraint, your refinement and sophistication at last utterly stripped away.

But I fear that my tiredness and this wretch of a day now have me feeling soft and sensual once more. Would you mind if we indulge that sensuality?

Would you mind if we shed our clothes with an aching slowness, our hands releasing the buttons, the binds, the fabrics and ties, the laces and silks and the finery, our fingers and lips caressing, kissing, devouring each newly revealed piece of skin until we're finally naked and bare? Would you mind if we climbed between the crisp cotton sheets, our bodies finding one another, our bodies instantly, unconsciously drawn together, my legs wrapped around your waist, my hands on your nape, my mouth reaching up for another kiss? Would you mind if I ran my hand through the dark wiry curls on your chest, if I traced the hollow of your hip, if I wound my delicate fingers around your hard and leaking glans to roll back your foreskin, to trace your cockhead with my thumb, to stroke you, to hear your breath rasp, to part my pink glistening folds with your shaft? Would you mind if I slid my hungry sex along that throbbing thickness, if I tease my clitoris until I come loud and hard as you hover above me, watching my face and body intently? Would you mind if I took you in hand and placed you at my portal, feeding every inch of your thick cock into my most intimate flesh, my sweet cunt enveloping, clamping around you, my body prematurely on the brink? Would you mind fucking me, making love to me slowly, slowly, oh so slowly, allowing me to commit to memory every nuance and pulse and thrust and groan? Would you mind coming inside me to satisfy the dizzying craving that courses through me each day and each night, to satisfy the need for your violent rain, for your scorching seed?

And when we're sated, when we're spent and breathless and our bodies call us to rest, would you mind if we wound ourselves together once again and listened to the wind and the rain?