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who can no longer pause…

Dear Gentle Sir,

“Dime a dozen” doesn’t apply to you. Not when you change my sphere of influence. Not when you alter the way I understand “then” and “now” all while I am standing “here.”

No, you are the game changer. The one whose moans whispered through the line straight to my heart. You are the world-maker. The one who shifted the sky into earth and back again all with a simple smile and sigh.

You woke me up and I haven’t slept since.
What a terrible injustice it is to be the luckiest of the unlucky.
(But more terrible to not know it.)

Nothing applies to you that makes any sense. We haven’t evolved enough to know what this is, what time we are in between, us. Each forgetting is a remembering. We are the smooth, wet edges of the promises you never made.

Take my hand, let’s walk. There is no secret shame, no grave to dance upon. When you look for me, you see because you have given me the better version of myself; that is who I meet in the courage of your trembling arms.

This isn’t a happily-ever-after. It isn’t a fairy tale, a morality tale for the ages. This happening is the story of Becoming but how does one celebrate waiting? Beloved, we are the familiar, the failure no one likes to speak of—the rousing branch that endures its yearly bloom.

Lola xo

things i never forget…

The way your eyes pierce and your jaw sets when you see my naked. A deep thrust followed by your deep kiss. The moan you make as you lean back to watch. Your slow slide inside.things i never forget The smile you make as you blush.
The way you kiss me and kiss me and kiss me as your hands please me. Your body, hot and slick, eagerly pressing into me and mine. Watching my bold, taut nipple disappear into your mouth. The perfection of our reflection in the mirror. Your urgency to feel more – torn between watching and tasting more of me. The pitch of your cum-moan as it drifts off into the night.

 

When you say, “Once more.” and “Again?”

say it again…

Dear Gentle Sir,

There is that moment before I appear: it is the breath that catches you – not the other way around. It is the moment you didn’t know you needed to capture and hold because once I appear, everything changes; each and every time.

You tell yourself that this time is like any other time; you and I are here, together, seeing one another and really, it’s no big deal; we are here in this way, as we must be. But your body… and the surprising way your heart just tripped – barely a little – tells the true story of us.

You say it’s me but you surprise yourself, constantly; the way your skin reaches for mine through each inhale. (Don’t worry, we won’t discuss the ways you try not to smell me on your clothes moments, hours, days later.)

In fact, the way my head tilts as I listen does not make you want to sink into silence as you softly – deftly – bring out the tender, fervid treasure of secret pleasures within me.  And when my hair falls out of its tie, over my shoulders, and spills down my back, that is not an impulse to nibble my clit or lick me anywhere; you are immune to what has been and whatever might have…

When we laugh together, those tingles racing, racing, down and out and in and through your body are not because my boisterous laugh pleases your nor does it make you want to make me happy; you are not inspired by me. After all.

There is that moment before you check your watch: it is the pause before we touch one last time that claims your hope. It is the moment you didn’t know you needed to capture and hold because once I disappear, everything changes; each and every time.

Kiss,

Lola xo

how hard is hard enough…

Dear Gentle Sir,

What is it like to see the look in my eyes change because of the pleasure you bring to my body? What is it to feel my wet heat seep between the fingers that are knuckle deep in my cunt? How do my warm folds snuggle up against your pumping cock? What part of your body clenches when my mouth drops open as so many moans for you tumble out?

I want to be your chest that heaves with urgency as you undress me. I want to be your eyes that watch our bodies become one and separate and become one over and over again. I want to be your nerves that tingle when my tongue traces around your ears and balls and inner thighs.

What is it that makes it so easy to say “no” to me? What is it that whispers in your reasoning mind when I admit how your skin makes mine heat and my clit ache? What compels you to turn away knowing how I gush and soak my panties every time I hear your voice?

I want to spread for you. I want to jiggle with abandon as we take turns riding riding riding. I want to make you dizzy with permission. I want your hand to be mine and feel it squeeze from the intense pleasure you give me. I want to watch your jaw set with determination as my cum draws near. I want our lips to almost touch as we make a delicious mess together.

What is it that makes you say “yes” to any part of me? What is it about me that charges your balls to swirl under your raging-hard cock? What is it that invites you to think about me even when you don’t mean to or want to or imagine you should? What is it that compels you to spread me wide with your imagination?

I want you. I want you to want me. I want to be you with me; to watch what I feel and experience that deepening of yourself inside you. I want to be your tongue that tastes my goodness and light and power and promise. I want my pleasure to drip into your mouth as it fuels your spirit. I want to look down or up or sideways or over my shoulder, seeing you there… with me.

Deeply Yours,

Lola xo

not the first…

Dear Gentle Sir,

I loved a man who was afraid of the Possible – the enormity of it. With me, he began to experience himself in his truest dimensions, that is, until he couldn’t bear it. So, he blamed me for his growing fear. He became afraid of me, not realizing it had nothing to do with me; I simply showed up and held up a mirror. He looked. He saw. He chose another – as is his wont. He prefers that which keeps him, contains him, controls him.

But even now, it is still in him – all that is Possible.
And it still has nothing to do with me.

These days, he tells himself things are great, that he is in a better place than ever before but he’s a step beside where he was before me: he is still small; he remains secretly, deeply afraid of the enormity of himself, of his own Light. He is happiest when he can hide.

Where once there was love, there now lives insight and a kind of wounded wisdom. Every time I kiss you, I wonder if you will (again), like him, take your turn and blame me for your fear? Or will you focus on my nipples, my glowing clit, and hot moans… hoping to drown out the terrifying call of what is Possible within you? Of the choices you are too afraid to make?

Truth is, it won’t be the first time.
I imagine you won’t try to be the last.
If I’m still here, that is.

Thoughtfully Yours,

Lola xo

dilettante…

Dear Gentle Sir,

There is a man who believes I pine for him. This couldn’t be farther from the truth: this is one of many stories he tells himself to make himself feel better – his hollow attempt to right the wrongs he’s convinced himself are mine.

I am not thinking of what was never there with him when my tongue swirls around your balls, making them swing, inspiring delirious pleasure. I am too busy bucking up against you as you drill that beautiful, thick, pulsating cock into me.

I am relying on our moans and my taut nipples and your strong hands and our bodies – straining with pleasure –  to keep us here: now, right where we are, fucking and free.

Deeply Yours,

Lola xo

morning somethings…

Dear Gentle Sir,

I like the feeling of glistening from being turned on by you. I like the way my sweat collects at my temples and down to the small of my back after our mouths have taken turns exploring. I like your sex-smell; it makes me equally hungry.

I like the soft smacking sounds that oosh from between my thighs as you plunge in (and out) and slide around my petaled, puckered edges. I like the way our bodies blush together. I like how the shy and the bold take turns.

I like the way my nipples firmly make themselves known as our skin touches and you kiss me in all the ways you do. I like the way your toes curl and my back arches as we pleasure ourselves by pleasing each other.

I like how our fucks feel like lovemaking and how our various tendernesses ignite unbelievable tempos of passion and desire. I like love-fucking you in every way we do.

Your moans are still my all-time favourite. The look you give me when you are overcome but fighting to resist your torrential need has forever changed the way I must be seen.

And your cum – in me, on me, with me – my great delight and honour. Your sexy is a secret that keeps me awake, wakes me at sunrise, and heats me to my core. You have changed me.

Adoringly Yours,

Lola xo

present tense…

Dear Gentle Sir,

Yes, I arched my body towards you; I was compelled. Utterly. Your soft, intense gaze sucked me in, much like your mouth did, and both inspired the most delicious moans. Even now, you turn me on like no other and I still want to be with you, especially like that: open, hungry, seen… gloriously wet.

I want you to remember how you make me feel. For those times when you are alone with thots of me, I want you to grip the shaft of your beautiful cock that once housed itself in my mouth (and between the soft petaled edges of my warm pussy). I want you to see my looking deep into the You of you and feel the muse once more. As you pump on your knees, I want our fuck-cries to haunt your cum.

I want your remembering to be a knowing – a certainty of what Pleasure we are together. No doubts, no second-guessing, no faint-hope clause every time you see my name or embrace me. Because again, I am wet. Here and now. For all of you.

As I Must,

Lola xo

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