HNT: Seventy-five

Out of the shadows

She steps

Into the rays of the sun

Into the warmth of his arms

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

HNT: Sixty-six

The thought of you

Guides
My body to the floor 

Persuades
My flesh to bathe in the bright
Compels
My fingers to feel, touch, caress
Sways
My hips to grind deep, groove right

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

HNT: Sixty-five

Baby

Come to bed 

It's cold outside

My body needs

Your fire

Your golden touch

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

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…)

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…)

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…)

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…)   

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…)

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…)  

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…) 

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…)

HNT: Fifty-six

Tell me
Show me
The way to relinquish, to resist you
The way to stop the lingering need to press your body close

Tell me
Show me
The way to deny the ache, the maddening yearning
The way to refuse my flesh as it calls you with each new dawn

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

HNT: Fifty-five

You craze
You burn
Transform me

You melt
You forge
Create me

With white heat
With platinum fire
With a piece of your blinding sun

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

HNT: Fifty-four

Although her demeanour calm and the slide of the snug denim measured, her breath quickens, heart races, her sex beats its slick, steady pulse at the thought of his powerful hand stroking the aroused flesh, at the thought of his voyeuristic gaze drinking in her near nakedness from across the thinly curtained way.

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

HNT: Fifty-three

Come to me
Come here to me
Hear my whispers
Heed my pleas

Come to me
Come here to me
Melt into this velvet fire
This hungering need

Come to me
Come here to me
Lose yourself in woman
In desire darkly divine

Come to me
Come here to me
Come make me yours
Come make yours mine

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

HNT: Fifty-two

The show’s over
Its lustre fading
Into the sultry dead of night
All I have now
Are these raven feathers
Feeding, sating, lustful longings
With touch aching, with caresses light

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

HNT: Fifty-one

She waits. He lingers.
The blinding sun a spot on the indulgent midday pleasure.

She waits. He lingers.
Her body poised for the exotic, for the voyeuristic gaze.

She waits. He lingers.
His eyes languidly mapping skin and curves, taut lines of diaphanous ebony.

She waits. He lingers.
The air thick, the walls pulsing with the desire coursing their veins.

She waits. He lingers.
Her quickening breath, her liquid glisten betraying urgent fleshly passions.

She waits. He lingers.
His lust now rumbling, his hardness straining for freedom and capture willing.

She waits. He lingers.
A sly smile curving her lips full and soft and eager.

She waits. He lingers.
A groan of impatient gliding metal sounding in the quiet.

She waits. He lingers.
Her whispered pleas edging him ever closer.

She waits. He lingers.
His shattered stasis a pawn in their teasing game.

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

(Re)Birth

The rays of the rising sun

The heat of the summer season

The day of my birth

The body, the mind, the spirit
The wonder, the bliss, the passion

The woman I have become

HNT: Fifty

If only these eyes could gaze
Behold you
If only these lips could kiss
Caress you
If only this body could feel
Know you
I would ask, I would want, I would need
No more
Or no other

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

HNT: Forty-nine

Tonight
I care little for the future
 Tonight
It is not your forever I desire
Tonight
I hunger only for your present
To melt
Into your flesh
To stoke
The flames of your fire

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