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oh, glorium…

Girl on top. Artistic erotica. Climb on baby.

The slip and the slide and the moan and the spread and the more-wet and the fall-back of your head… that I love.

handle with care…

handle with careOh my fuck, I can’t stand it.
I can’t stand
not touching you.
I can’t stand not feeling your eyes on me.
I need to touch you
and be touched by you.
I need to hear you moan as you watch my pleasure.
I need to taste you with my everything.


So, when I grab your hand and lead you into the bedroom, it’s not on sudden impulse; my tug is a longstanding ache of horny that has been needing you in unspeakably hot and naughty ways.

90% of success…

90% of success
is showing up.


Kiss me, and you will see how important I am.

― Sylvia Plath —

in winter, i plot and plan…

In spring, I move.

mydesires71: “ I’m ready for my massage… Mmm yes.. Just like that… Oh .. Oh fuck.. Touch me! ” Flirt and Meet Hot Single, Join For Free
— Henry Rollins —

sorry, i’m late…

sorry, i'm late

I was watching myself cum…

hip deep in the velvety squish…

Dear Gentle Sir,

None of my words here are original or new.
Nothing I say here is a surprise.
Everything I write here is simple:
notes on the scale of wanting you
and your moans as you read me, are my song.

Not-So-Secretly Yours,

Lola xo

and still later on…

I lift my ass just a little, just enough for you to see the edge of my lips, just enough for you to make me shiver with anticipation when you lick my petaled edges. I spread my legs this wide so that the every time you’re alone with your glorious cock, y will remember every moan I’ve ever made with you: fucking me with your eyes, your wink, your smile, your cock tip, your fingertips, your tongue tip, your every length and width deep inside me and mine, your mouth your mouth your mouth, fucking me into moaning me into loving me with every hungry touch. I want you now like I wanted you then, doing things that you’ll never forget… ever.


Every woman I have ever loved has left her print upon me, where I loved some invaluable piece of myself apart from me — so different that I had to stretch and grow in order to recognize her. And in that growing, we came to separation, that place where work begins.


— Audre Lorde —

a lesson in sugarglass…

Here, I am the only kind of holy,
and there is no room
for nonbelievers.

—Ashe Vernon—


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