Filigree

She meets his eye and only then begins her sultry serpentine recline; her glowing skin roused and somehow soothed by the plush velvet cord beneath, her body a delicate and supple arch slowly, deliberately sinking, laying bare her lust, playing out an enduring seduction, an attraction that has her flesh open and ready, always wanting and awakened.

Yet all the while she yearns, hungers for him to shatter this erotic measure, to take and possess her in a way that erases all lingering doubt about the certainty of his desire, to have him push her back a little roughly, his urgency rising as he tears to easy shreds the lace adorning the modesty throbbing, aching to be anything but, his mouth greedily devouring her pouting sex, his beard lightly scrapping a path up the feminine line for his lips to suckle violently on the hard, rosy nipple before entering her with a groan and fucking her with hard, deep, steady strokes that leave her breathless, trembling as each successive orgasm strikes through her like a bolt, his own release deferred until she cries she can take no more, until he unlocks his gleaming uncut cock from her embrace and anoints the lips of her cunt and the tautness of her belly with his searing come, the rained pattern of his seed the only filigree, the only adornment she truly craves and needs.

The Red Curtain

As I stand here, my desire pulsing, throbbing slick between my legs, as I stand here imagining the warmth of your dark gaze in place of the cold, hard stare of the lens, as I stand here breathlessly aching, a sheen of lust and impatience prickling my fair skin, I wonder, I wonder, I wonder if you realise what you do to me, if you know your true effect.

Do you know I want and crave and need you in more ways than words can ever dare express? Do you know how I yearn to trail my soft lips over and about you, to devour every pulsing vein, every smooth hollow and wiry curl, every inch of your glistening skin and flesh? Do you know how I long to draw the scarlet drapes and cosset our naked bodies away, to fuck you and make love to you in this secluded and timeless cocoon, far from the world we know, far from the personas we assume, to fuck you with the passionate intensity running hot and oily through these veins, to arch myself over your imposing form, to come with a scorching rush over your greedy cock, to milk the seed my velvet heat covets, to feel your body tremble and shudder as you possess me as yours, as I scream your name? Do you know how I hunger to take you, expose and bare you in the full glare of the light, the curtains drawn back, this room our stage, the prying eyes on the street, the curious gazes watching raptly, consuming our entwined bodies, the sight of the carnal beast who lurks within you impaling my sweet little cunt from behind, the pounding of flesh, your fingers digging into my hips, your shaft emerging gleaming and bright, my moans, your groans ringing out through the hush and their silence, your fist in my curls, your mouth finally seeking my kiss as you drive into my soul, into my molten depths as no other man has done before this moment of bliss?

Shimmer

Baby, baby, baby…

Let me tease you
Please you
Step into your light
Let me share with you
My silken heat
This body lithe
Let us come together
Our desiring flesh as one
Let us come together
Indulge and shimmer

Out of the Past

He stalks her in the night, in the hour of the wolf, rising up out of the past to taunt her, to inflame her irrational desires, her unyielding obsession for him, her hunger for possession, for the rough kiss of masculine flesh, for the hands that will pin her to the frame with the slightest effort, for the fingers that will part the softness of her thighs, for the burnished glans that will fill her and fuck her so completely, so savagely she will cry out, curse his very name, her body releasing the flood, her cunt clutching, coming hotly over his naked cock, her juices flowing over his shaft, saturating the ebony suiting, her scarlet nails digging, drawing the blood on his back, marking his flesh with the passion, the hatred that courses even now through the woman shattering the dark silence.

The sweet little x

There was a time when you would seal your whispered confessions, the passionate words of your lust, your farewells and goodbyes with a kiss, with a cross, with a sweet little x.

But once it disappeared from sight, once that sweet little x ceased to be, I knew things had changed; I knew we would never be the same. I knew the hint of affection you cradled tentatively in your palm had been lost, had faded forever away.

Beginnings and Endings

The days, the weeks have faded away and yet the visions that rush past my eyes, the sensations that assault then course through my body take me back as if it was only yesterday.

So overwhelmed, so seized by this torrent, I can barely form an utterance with either lips or pen. And even in this rare moment when the words have chosen to grace me with their presence, I am at a loss; I am dumbstruck, unable to fix upon a point, a look, a stroke, a caress, a thrust, a soft swell, a detail, a beginning.

Where do I begin? Where do I begin?

Do I begin with that night, with the morning after, with the season and the oppressive heat that boiled mercury, blistered bitumen, melted bricks and mortar, with the heat that radiated through the day and long after the sunset, the heat that prickled my newly bathed and perfumed skin, my once fair flesh golden and gleaming as I impatiently waited for you to weave your way through the peak-hour traffic?

With your knock on my door, with the moment you crossed the threshold, with your grin, my smile, our momentary shyness, with our first kiss, deep, devouring, urgent, with the way our hungry lips and tongues immediately erased the miles that had kept us apart for an aeon, with the change in erotic tempo as I stopped to recover my sight, my reach, my breath, this gaze meeting yours, wandering tenderly over your face, these fingers sensually sliding up the curve of your neck, finding their home in your nape, my lips softly brushing the peaks of your mouth, this silken tongue tracing its shape, your hands possessing my hips, urging me into the pulsation of your thickening and hardening flesh?

With your fingers teasing the zip of my dress, the metal teeth groaning in synch with the dirty sax oozing out of the speakers, the straps somehow gliding off my shoulders of their own will and accord, with the aching slowness you edged the bodice over the pert breasts sheathed in diaphanous lace, your tips burning a trail on the ebony silk, on my shivering body, your hands drawing the fabric down, down, down over the taunt line of my belly, easing it over my rocking hips, over the filigree bound tight around me, past the lean, silky legs raised up stiletto high?

With my own hands teasing and tugging at your constricting clothing, with my naked breasts pressed into the smoothness of your chest, my lips gently suckling your nipple, your knees buckling violently in response, the lightest of kisses, the daintiest of licks finding the glistening pearl nestling in your cockhead, my body bowed in worship, in benediction, my wet mouth enveloping your glans as your hands travel the length of my spine, as your questing fingers prise apart the luscious curves at the end of my feminine line?

With the moment I break away, leaving you lonely and yearning again, walking the path to the bedroom glowing in the lamp light beyond, with the way I meet your gaze over my shoulder, with my lingering form in the doorway as I register your desiring expression, the catch of your breath, the groan from low in your throat, with my position in front of the mirrored wall as I stand waiting for you once more?

With the reflection of our naked bodies, the contrast of your scarlet shaft pressed into my creamy thigh, your arm about my waist, the gentle strength of your hand as you slip in one digit then two then more, as you finger me, as you finger my hot velvet cunt, as my own knees weaken, the wetness dripping, flowing, my sweetness cupped in your palm, the sweat on your brow, the lone bead gliding between my breasts, my head on your shoulder, my body given over, abandoned to your touch, my body intoxicated with pleasure, the first orgasm screaming up through my bones, my gasp, my moan, these lips begging, pleading to be taken, to be fucked, to have you, to have you fuck me, to have you inside me? 

With the hour, the minute, the second you finally, finally lay me down, spread me wide, cleave open the pouting lips of my cunt, your glans gleaming with the honey you will indulgently lap later that night, your shaft nudging then plunging to the hilt, to the hilt, to the clutching hilt, no warning, no ceremony only desire, desire, a desire quickly morphed into need, the need to fill me, to feel me, embracing and milking, devouring, devouring you, from the inside, from the inside, my back arching off the now sodden and rumpled cotton sheeting, these arms grasping for earth, your pounding thrusts delivering your force, your weight, your possession, your cock emerging slick and triumphant, your cock buried in so deep neither one of us can think or speak, your cock, your thrusts, my screams ringing into the summer night’s silence, your cock, your thrusts, my screams, your dominance, your passion, your command speaking with precision to my trembling submission?

Where do I begin? Is this where I begin? Do I begin with you? Or do I begin at another beginning?

Do I begin with him?

Do I begin with the other you, with the one, with the man who has haunted this woman, this desire, these pages for what feels like an age? Do I begin with the revelations that should be locked and hidden away?

Do I begin with the fact he invaded me long before you arrived, with the ache in my heart, with the longing in my flesh, with the pain inflicted by his silence and disappearance, the pain I selfishly needed you to comfort and erase?

Do I begin with his spectre, looming, lurking in the corner, the voyeur deliberately conjured to bare witness, to taste the sour bile rising up in his throat, to feel the raw desire and bitter jealousy twisting his guts in a knot as you experience and savour and take me in every way he has always wanted and more, as you slide into me with a groan, as you possess me like a beast, as the walls absorb the sound of your flesh slapping hard from behind, as your sweat pools in my back, your hands a vice on this flesh, fucking me with a passionate brutality that will surely drive him from my soul, from this room at long last?

Do I begin with my hands clasped over my mouth in fear of releasing his name, my lids shut tight, shrouding everything but the visions within me, wanting you, wanting him, wanting him to be you, each deep thrust a hope, each angry plunge an exorcism, a purging of guilt, of jealousy, of obsessive desire running oily-hot through these veins, each blinding high, each resting low, each shuddering orgasm somehow bringing me closer to you both?

Do I begin with your tenderness, the complexity of your caress, with our lovemaking deep in the dark dead of night, with the way my body opened itself to you as I thought of him, as I needed and imagined him beneath my slight form, with the way I straddled your thighs, my delicate fingers wound around his uncut cock, my cunt hovering, my hips descending, this intimate flesh engulfing your heat, taking you to the place where you rightly belong, our bodies distilled to shadows, to sensate silhouettes, my heart reduced to a beating, adoring ache, our sensual rhythm, our mutual pleasure, our sensual rhythm transporting me across the ether, across the air and the lands and the seas vast between us, our sensual rhythm finally delivering me to you and you to me? 

Do I begin with this deluge, with this confusion, with this seemingly incoherent muddle of words, with the salty tears, with the sobs now breaking as I sit here and type, as I sit here confessing it all?

Where do I begin? Where do I begin?

Where do I begin when so much of this feels like the end?

Gold Dust

You
Unearth me
Bare me
Heartlessly reduce me
To gold dust
Shimmering lonely
In the darkness of the night

Monochrome

Even as I am etched in black and white, even as I am drawn in the tones of their in-between, my passion for you transcends this monochrome frame, it is every colour, tint and shade either of us can conceive, it is every gradation of light and shadow, it is the inky darkness of a carnality which tears at my flesh and shreds my soul, it is the ashen green of jealousy, this barely contained envy of the women fortunate enough to drown in the hot rains of your lustful fury, it is the bronze of your skin kissed by the sun, the burnish of your glans hard and dripping in mouth, on tongue, it is your chocolate gaze, it is my azure look as you drive yourself to my clutching limit, it is the pinkness of my cunt, hungry, rapacious, the cream of my thighs bound tight about your waist, the scarlet of the heart bleeding its loving ache, it is the kaleidoscope, the splinters, the shards blinding, arresting as these fingers seek skin, as they spread open the lips, as I fuck myself, as I give in, as I surrender to the wanting, to the imagining, to you here in this room, reaching, reaching for me through time and space and improbability, through the impossible, through the unthinkable pleasure of this body, this offering, the pleasure that takes me to breath’s end, that takes me to the brink and back again, that brings you to me, that delivers me to you, that devours everything, all hue.

Tell Me…

Tell me what you want. Tell me what you want from me. Tell me what you really want from me.

Don’t run. Don’t hide. Tell me.

Whisper into me everything you want to say, everything you need to say, everything you think you shouldn’t say.

Groan into me the thoughts that swell your cock; the desires that haunt you in the night, the cravings soft and brutal that scream to your hungering soul, the cravings you long to exact on my sweet and supple form.

Growl into me the passions smouldering, seething in your core, the bitter jealousy that taunts you from near and from afar, your darkness, your intensity, your overwhelmingly lascivious greed, the need driving us to desire’s primal edge.

Tell me what you want. Tell me what you want from me. Tell me; whisper, growl and groan for me.

Tell me, lover. Tell me, tell me, tell me…

In the Pink

In bed and in the pink and missing you, aching, aching for you, for you to reach out to me, to trace this shy and veiled cleft, to glide your hands between the softness of my thighs, to have your fingers ease away the drenched cotton, to have you part the plump lips of my sex, to have you slide your thick hard glans deep inside me, to have you lose yourself, submerge yourself, to have you drown in my heat, to have you know me and the slick and pulsing epicentre of my desire.

Anticipation

How can it be, lover? How can it be? 

How can it be your carnal masculinity turns me on my head so easily? How can it be the anticipation of your touch leaves me shivering, aching wet? How can it be the yearning for your flesh compels these legs to rise up to heaven’s edge? How can it be the desire for your body to slide along, between, inside this velvet heat reduces me to a whimpering mess? How can it be, lover? How can it be? How can it be the mere thought of you shatters this woman so absolutely?

Drift

There’s been barely a moment where my thoughts haven’t drifted to you, to the thought of us soiling my crisp and pristine sheets with our passion, to the thought of our bodies pressed together under the shower’s cooling rain, my hands exploring while yours do the same, my slender fingers teasing the silken softness of your newly spent glans, registering your excitement, the rush, the beat, the pulsation, your aroused sex growing thick, hard and heavy in my palm once again, stroking your shaft slowly, slowly, slowly, my thumb circling your cockhead slick with your glisten and the drops, my delicate fingers caressing the small of your back, working their way to the sensitive spot at its base that invariably buckles your knees and reduces your voice to a growl, my kiss finding your nipples, your collarbone, your neck, your lips, my hands reaching out beyond the weighty glass doors to retrieve the luxuriant towelling, my hands blotting, sensually soaking up the gleaming beads clinging close, my lips and tongue drinking, following the path of the cloth, my lips and tongue eager to taste you, to have you aching and pounding, to have your cock insistent for the heat of my sweet little mouth, to have you come with a shudder, with a roar on my freshly washed lily-white skin.

But at this very moment, in the here and the now, all I want, all I truly crave is your naked cock buried deep, buried so deep inside me all I can do is breathe, all I can do is clutch at your shoulders, my legs around your waist like a vice, my back and my hips arching up to meet you, to take your every morsel into my glistening sex, this glistening succulence, this smooth, scarlet cunt which aches to be filled, which cries to be fucked, which aches to wrap itself around you, to bear the mark of your unique flesh.

I want it, need it, hunger for you so desperately, I'm throbbing wet merely typing the words…

Breathless

You speak the force of your desire
And leave me breathless
Gasping, desperate
To indulge your flesh

Femme Fatale

There’s something you need to know…

I care little for your ruin. In fact, it’s the very thing I want to secure.

I want to spend, devour and break you. I want to feast on your flesh, leaving nothing for another. I want to strip away every vestige of your self-control.

I want to stroke your shaft, feel the weight of your thickening and hardening glans, your flesh throbbing, insistent, incessant, my thumb smearing the first pearl of precum across your burnished head, my soft mouth following suit to envelope you, savour you, suck you until I feel the first surge of your seed glossing my lips, my tongue.

I want to entwine my fingers around your naked cock, part the plump lips of my sex and feed you into my sodden cunt with an aching slowness that will leave you begging for swiftness, pleading for the knowledge of my pulsing depths.

I want to fuck you with a languid sensuality, with fire and anger and urgency, my lithe body arching above you as I feel your come erupting violently inside me, coating the velvet of my cunt with its slickness, as I clutch at you, milking every last precious drop, as I orgasm over and again hotly over your cock.

I want to kiss your mouth, inhale your breath, swallow your groan, my whispered name, your wanton words.

I want to leave you a shivering mess.

But more than this, I want – need – your crazed passion, the intensity of your lust to rise up, to scream though your skin, to exact its own revenge upon me, to tear my desire for you to shreds, to crush me by the same pitiless means, annihilating this hunger, this craving for good.

Cry

Do you recall the sound of my pleasure, my breath and my voice as I come? Do you remember the way I exhale your name as I tease my clitoris, as I finger my cunt? Do you recollect the ragged whispers, the moans, my half-spoken pleas, as your hands take hold of my hips, as you drive your burnished glans into my depths, as your kiss finds my lips, as you fuck me, possess me with a sweet savagery that leaves me captivated, addicted, obsessed?

Do you remember? Do you recall?

They were the very sounds that filled this room as I touched myself and thought of you, as time stopped and space closed itself in, as my body arched off the chair, as my orgasm crashed over me, as the air was overwhelmed with the scent of sex and the cry of my passion, as my want and desire and need for you clawed through the pretence, crawled up through my core, rose up through this flesh, returning to haunt me, to taunt this woman once again.

L'Amour Fou

You’ve marked my mind, my body with insanity, this heart, this desire with uncertainty, the night once my comfort now the enemy, the shadows taking on your spectral form to haunt me, your phantom a reminder of revelations urged from deep within me, the myopic passion you inspire so easily, the moments I laid bare my simplicity, complexity, this woman adrift in the sensory deep.

Feel

I feel it. I feel it now.

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.

Envy

I envy her. I envy them all.

All of the women lucky enough to encounter you, to chance upon you on the street, in the underground, out in the world as you pass them by, the ones able to catch the briefest glimpse, the ones who can treat themselves to the lingering gaze, the ones who please your eye and arouse your passions, the ones able to brush against your imposing frame or have you press your body into them in the peak hour rush on the crowded train. 

I envy them, I do. All of the women fortunate enough to have you, to know you, to truly know you, to be with you, each and every day, privileged enough to bring you into their lives, to bring you in tight, to bring you in close, into their bodies, into their ache, into the velvet heat craving your thick, hard perfecting flesh. I covet the moments they share with you, the moments and minutes and hours they are able to reach out and touch you, to caress your mouth oh so sensually with their lips, the mouth always longing for one more kiss, to trace its peaks with their soft and slippery tongues, to glide their hands along the finely cut Italian suiting to feel, to register, to memorise the blistering heat, your rapid heartbeat.

And as I sit here on this cold and lonely night, I wonder if they indulge you completely, if they spoil you as I would do, if they selfishly take their own pleasure, if you sate their overwhelming desires and needs, the ones you so easily inspire in me, if they satiate your hunger with their skin and their cunts and their feminine suppleness, if you satisfy their greed with your hands and your cock and your mouth and your mind and the masculinity that invariably leaves me in a daze.

Revelation

 

Tell me the truth. What is it you want from me? Really want? Just say whatever is inside you…

I want to know you. All of you. Your body, your desires, your mind. Your heart. Your soul. The man.

I want to fuck you and make love to you. I want to indulge you in every way you can imagine, in all the ways my own passion can conceive.

I want to kiss you; I want to kiss your mouth, the strong line of your neck, the deep, smooth hollow of your hip. I want to kiss your cock; I want to worship it, taste you, savour your entire body with my lips and my tongue.

I want to caress your body in the dark, my hands touching, tracing, discovering each muscle and tendon and wiry curl, these fingers skimming, teasing the softness of your skin.

I want to drift off into my dreaming with your nakedness wound into mine, your breath on my neck, the beat of your heart on my back, your cock nestled between my cheeks.

I want to wake in the night and find you there beside me, in the place I always long for you to be. I want to rouse you from your slumber with my breasts pressed into your chest, my sex sliding along your thick, hard heat.

I want to wake with you, watch the sun rise with you, kiss the points where the sunlight meets your golden skin. I want to inhale your scent, committing it all to memory so I can recall you an instant when you're not here.

I want to talk and dance and walk with you; I want to laugh and sing and eat. I want to listen to your voice, the accented rumble that leaves me weak.

I want to be still with you, hushed and quiet, allowing my body to speak, allowing this body to tell you of the passion that has been taunting me for the past two years.

I want to hold your hand; I want to press myself in close, your fingers travelling their instinctive path, your palms finding their home in every curve of my slight frame.

I want to possess you in the open, for all eyes to see; I want you to take me, fuck me until I cry out your name, until my cunt releases the flood, until you fill me with your searing cream, until this body divides and just as quickly unites, until I can no longer count the time I have spent at the edge, in the rays of your blinding light.

I want to have these walls drip with our sweat; I want them to absorb our heated libations. I want to them to soak up our scent, the sweet musk of our come, the passion consumed and yet forever consuming.

I want to be free, I want to be bound to you; I want to touch you with my warmth and affection. I want to be free; I want us both to be free, unafraid to open ourselves to this feeling.

I want to submerge myself in you; I want to explore with you.

With you, I want it all.

Desire

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.