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

Net

With one hand around her hip and the other travelling the length of her delicate back, he eases her down, his head crooked to the left, affording his gaze the opportunity to drink in the sight of her bare breasts framed by the black shrug and the crimson peaks instantly hardened as they make contact with the cool gleam of the wood.

But just as his fingertips leave the base of her spine, brushing the crevice dividing the cheeks he aches to grasp, kiss and taste, he stops, suspends his touch and the maddeningly measured caresses, drawing back and away.

He retreats to pander completely to the voyeur inside him, to commit to memory the vision of the woman he has desired from a painful distance for an age, to watch her body’s rise and fall, to listen to her breath – short, sharp, on the verge of tortured – to listen and watch and deeply inhale the scent of her bloom, the body tamed and yearning and waiting, waiting for the moment he will part the slender thighs pressed tight and begin to finger the web of netting nestled against her smooth, dripping sex, waiting for the moment he rends that mesh without ceremony, overtaken at last by the urgency of his hunger and need to reunite their flesh, the need to bury his naked uncut glans into her cunt so deep from behind his cockhead kisses her womb, his balls fusing themselves to her plump, throbbing clitoris, so deep she will cry out, invoke the almighty, whimper his name and her pleas, so deep she will be possessed once again, reclaimed rightly as his, taken back at long last from another, taking her back to every moment, every whisper and groan, every utterance and devouring kiss, every bond, every bind, every decisive thrust and perfecting stroke, every minute they have fucked like animals in heat, every hour they sensually attended to their love in the dark, every glide of his shaft, coated with her glistening come, every clutch of her cunt, dreading the loss of his lust, every drop of his scorched rain, painting her fair skin, every surge of his come inside her, inside her, deep, deep inside in the place where it belongs.

Muse

Once his gaze falls upon her, once his touch maps the limits of her form, once his lips whisper their kisses into naked feminine warmth, she is changed, transformed.

No longer purely woman, she is more.

Muse, creation, force, she is the sigh, the moan, the roaring pulse, oil on canvas, the sensual delicacy of his brushstrokes, light and shade, the camera eye, shutter click slicing through the night, the sweetest skin, the honeyed come, voluptuous pixels aching to transcend the screen, the erotic words composed in fluorescent virtuality, the desire etched into her glistening velvet, the lustful yearning written on the body with tip of devouring tongue, with the artist’s hand, with the need of man, with the slide of thick, throbbing flesh, with the seductive scratch of the writer’s nib.

Silk and Lace

Draped in silk and lace, I wait.

This body prone, craving, vulnerably anticipating your incendiary lust, the desires whispered, growled hotly into my waiting ear, the words exhaled into the curves trembling even now for the lightness of your touch, the words murmured along the straps drawn so tight you physically ache to tear the hooks, to rend each delicate fibre, to devour every morsel of my perfumed skin and 



glistening flesh, your mouth lapping at my streaming cunt, your tongue raking the sweetest pleasure of my clitoris, your lips suckling on each plump petal of my throbbing sex until the first orgasm screams up from my bones, until you drink down the passion you effortlessly inspire, until these walls drip with my pleas, my moans for your hard naked cock, for you to fill me, to fuck me, to take me at long last, to make me your wanton lover, your woman, yours and yours alone.

Draped in silk and lace, draped in this cruel, unerring need for you, I wait.

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.

Fall

Are you longing to fall?

Are you yearning to unleash your passion, to relinquish all control? Are you craving the plunge, the breathtaking pulse, the drive, the searing stroke into this glistening flesh, this mind, this rapacious woman, this soul? Are you hungry for a taste, for the ecstasy of our sensual merging, for our wanton rebirth, for our carnal annihilation, for the scorched libations that will etch into me your name for evermore? Are you desiring the very same from near or afar, from countless miles away or mere moments from my door, aching to take us to the place we have needed for so long?

e[lust] #44

Photo courtesy of Plumptious Pea

Welcome to e[lust] - The only place where the smartest and hottest sex bloggers are featured under one roof every month. Whether you're looking for sex journalism, erotic writing, relationship advice or kinky discussions it'll be here at e[lust]. Want to be included in e[lust] #45? Start with the newly updated rules, come back April 1st to submit something and subscribe to the RSS feed for updates! 

~ This Week’s Top Three Posts ~

Everyday D/s

Honesty sometimes feels like manipulation

Blood, life, sex

~ Featured Posts (Molly’s Picks) ~

Grief and Sex

Bringing Others into a Dom/Sub Relationship

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! 

Thoughts & Advice on Sex & Relationships

Adventures In… Lube-land
ORAL SEX, AS STANDARD AS THE WHEELS ON A CAR
PolyAnna's Musings: Radar Love
A productive morning
Livia Has a Crush
Terms of Fatness

 

Sex News, Interviews, Politics & Humor

Thoughts: Feminism, Sexism and Submission

 

Thoughts & Advice on Kink & Fetish

Deep subspace - sexy or scary?
Django Unchained: the suffering black female
What the hell is 'NORMAL' sex anyway?
Before
All About the Collar
Dirty Little Secret
Honesty

 

Erotic Fiction

Master's Valentine's ToDo List
The Passion of First Encounters.
Ma'am's Turn (First Meeting Part 3)
Nipple torture and girl love
The Boundary
I'm in the Mood
Skin
Memories
Lolita Twenty-Thirteen, Part Two
Want
A Quick Preview

 

Erotic Non Fiction

Lindsey's Orgasm
Blog Jammin'
Postponing the Inevitable
Watching Has its Own Rewards
A Farewell Torment
Writhe
I want to lick your pussy
Cap D'Agde 2012 Foam Party
Dirty Hot
Eighty-Five Minutes
Saying Goodnight
Hundreds of orgasms
our open marriage- mina's date
1+1+1= My first threesome
Writing Sex Scenes
Beginnings and Endings
Glass Bottle
One Cole the Dane + One WeVibe Salsa = Orgasm

 

Blogging

Epiphora's beginner’s guide to sex toy review
Very Inspiring Blogger Award

 

Eroticon

Erotic Eroticon
Finessing Sex- A Snippet Of Fiction
Eroticon Highlights
Bite Me

 

Poetry

In the Back Seat of the Bus
Transmogrification
Gelüste
Oiled Seduction

The Silence

In the silence
These lips form
Whispers
Kisses

In the silence
This touch is
Lightness
Being

In the silence
The body glows
Passion
Hope
Memory

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.

Slither

Lashes flutter with its first slithering caress, shrouding my gaze, plunging this body into the merciless ache, compelling me to traverse the cruel space between us, to reach willingly, to yield wantonly to the hands now passionately cupping my breasts, the fingers delicately edging away the lace, the tips tracing the sliver of light snaking its way to the smoothness of my sex, the lips brushing, kissing, suckling the crown of each proud peak, the naked cock impatient for a taste of my heat, the naked cock thrusting, stroking, surging inside me, the naked cock gripped by the force of my climax, the naked cock at one with the shuddering flood of my most intimate flesh.

Nightfall

The night falls.

And with it her heart, her body, her soul, each descending into the depths, into a darkness few seek and fewer still comprehend, into the yearning to be filled, fucked, to be taken, possessed as his equal, overcome by his passionate dominance, into the desire to be bound with the silk that even now hangs about his neck, into the need for the touch absolute, the caress that engraves his name on her skin, into the voice that ignites, soothes, assures her she has found her home in him.

Quintessence

She enters this world on a wave, on the swell of drapery luxuriant, riding the surf of embroidery curls, her body now realised in sensual repose, adorned in the gleam of the pearl, greeting this day usual yet unique, the essence, quintessence, not of perfection but of woman, of water, of earth, of fiery passion, of the softness of breath, of the glow of silken flesh, of the whispered kiss and sultry caress, of the loving force, of the feminine seeking the harmony, craving the masculine.

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

Gossamer Caress

Although soft and indulgent against my skin, there’s little comfort in this gossamer caress for it merely fuels the yearning deep within, the yearning for your touch sensual and tender, for the kiss that speaks to me of boundless passions, for your body pressed in tight, for the flesh pressed in so close we no longer care where each of us begins and ends, for the lover aching to enfold me, for the man craving this embrace, for the one waiting, for the one needing this perfecting union.

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.

In the Curve

It is in the curve you belong, your body and mine as one, your hands hovering over the arching line, drawing in the heat, the shine of the light, hovering, taunting my desire, inflaming this need, hovering, relishing the urgency prickling my skin, hovering, hovering, the space between us cruelly intact, hovering, hovering, before making landfall at last, before touching, before meeting, before easing, prising open the flesh dripping its want, your dark gaze, your ravenous mouth drinking me in, drinking me down, your thick cock plunging into the embrace of my most intimate ache, plunging into this clutching cunt, your imposing form surrendering its burden, its weight, the weight bearing upon, baring your soul, your hips a piston, furiously slamming, fucking, taking possession of the woman whose cries of pleasure threaten to bring down these walls, whose cries of pleasure, whose velvet fire, whose unerring passion threatens to shatter, to break you both. 

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…