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just a second choice…

I cup your balls in my hand as you straddle me on the bed to kiss me. Your mouth is sweet and my back arches up; I want my nipples to brush your broad chest. Our tongues play while my hand methodically works your hard into harder. Up and down and around, I twist you into a pleasure of moans.

I smile into our next kiss and you pause to look at me. Suspended above me, you look deeper into me than anyone else ever has. I love this about you – your boldness with me. The reward: I let you see me… it… I let you see how hungry I am for you. The tease of my smile and the dimples of delight in my cheeks give me – your bright-eyed lover – away.

I pull on your lip with my teeth as I pull your cock closer and with both hands, I knead that first gasp out of you. My legs splay under you, the inside of my knees pushing against the outside of yours. Every gasp and moan that escapes your beautiful mouth works me  into a state of wet. I am clever and tenacious, tender and wicked, saucy and sweet with your skin, with your mouth and the stunning thick of your amazing cock.

I want to be ready for you when you finally decide you must fuck me.
You aren’t the only one waiting to fill me.

I slide down until your cock slips into my mouth. My throat sucks you all the way in… and back. I push you deeper from behind. I hold you with my lips and suck you suck you suck. You want to thrust but I hold you still. You want to grab me everywhere. Your hands flail as I push your hips towards me just a. little. deeper. I suck you suck you suck.

This confidence I have with you translates so clearly: I will have you dizzy with desire. My mouth full of glorious, rock-hard cock, I watch you now as my hands push up behind your balls and slide back and forth, forth and back, back further until I slip inside and find that secret you keep. I slip inside and your eyes widen as you look down at me. Pressing down on that sweet bulb inside you, your gasps become cries and finally, finally! You finally pump… as you must.

You are so close.
But you want to fill me more… to spread my folds – in the deepest, hottest wet I am.

Fuck.
I’m more than ready.
Fuck fuck fuck
Fuck, yes.
Y.e.s.

 

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while the piano man played…

I return to you. My breath catches to see you there, framed by the doorway, ensconced in wedgewood and velvet. Oh, my: so unspeakably gorgeous, you.

You watch me as I walk towards you. The piano man does his thing. Again, I wonder at this meeting we have found, amazed anew: why in the world are you here… with me? Your expression is unreadable – so serious – so intent on me; I’m gripped with a sudden fear at what I cannot see and in it, the looming dark blinds me; I prepare to lose.

Then, ivory keys shimmy through me. The light returns and I don’t care who notices me dancing for you or how goofalicious it is. Your sweet smile seduces me once more. This. This is the peace I have learned to trust.

These are the things I will remember. These are the thoughts I am not brave enough to speak.

I look into your intense, soulful eyes. The room disappears and time stills; it is just you and me. Yet again, they transport me for seconds that feel like the gentlest of forevers. I am both full and empty. My chest aches with colours I only feel… words I wish I could paint.

Us: I whisper our names with my soul.
Us: looking at one another, trying not to give ourselves away…

Not for the first time, I breathe you in. To be with you like this changes me. Again, I am revealed… awakened to this  creature I have never been: one who can fully take care of myself, and yet who enjoys allowing you to take care of me, anyway.

It is nothing short of revolution, this revelation.
I caress your strong hand and hold your finger.
I follow you into the night.
It is not as dark as we were led to believe.

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wanting…

These are the quiet hours. When skin is warm. When I touch myself where you might. Like this – the lightest touch – and I exhale – the subtext, your name. Fuck. Your name; it traces my hidden curves, the secret edges you long for in your quiet hours. I hear your voice as I imagine you must hear mine. When we are alone. When we are remembering. And aching. And needing more.

My hands dip under the lace of my thong. I slip my hand where yours should be. After all, I shaved earlier last night (maybe… for you… perhaps) and I am smoother than silk. I hear you moan at this. At this, and at this delicious first touch on such secret parts.

Our breath suspends between our lips… so close. I am so close to kissing you but this suspense – we like it. We linger in the way your hands slowly explore – drinking up my heat, my soft, my wet soft heat. You are not as mysterious as you like to think you are; I know you want me to moan. I know you don’t want me to look away. I know you want me to tilt myself open, to lift my hips into the scoop of your clever fingers. I know you want to watch my pleasure build.

In this, you also build to your fullest self – your beautiful cock pulsing with anticipation, heeding the call of what is wild within us. And so, instead: I hold as still as I can. I look deep into your eyes (like I just did what seems like only hours ago) and you become – we become – the kind of lost that somehow feels found.

Fuck. Your hands on me. Oh, fuck.

You work different pressures to test me, to test us. Firm to feather-like and everything in between. You like this tension of wanting, of needing, of being needed so badly that only our breath gives us away. And I like it, too. I love it. I love the way you research my pleasure, I love the gentle ways you pry me open with tender need. Your sweetness, your hunger wrapped up in all that desire is sexier than I can say. When your grip on me grows more intense, as you barely hold yourself back, I realize… I don’t know how much longer I can last.

Your fingers are sweet, sweet melody playing along my hips, between my legs, the silky soft pulse of my inner thighs. You want to whisper, “You are so fucking soft.” Instead, we both say, “Fuck” and kiss. Deeply.

Fuck. Your skin on mine. Oh, fuck.

I can’t help it; I break first. I turn on my side and push my ass into the curve of your lap, pushing up against the wide, thick strength of your thighs.  You pull me closer with one hand and cup my perky breast with the other. My nipples are so hard… wired into my clit – the clit you are now holding between forefinger and thumb. I can’t help it: I moan. I moan the way you like it. (Just like I do now.) In this squirm, this folding of knees, and arching of spines, there is no hiding how much we want. There is nothing more I need right now than to fuck you.

Fuck.
I am the moan you just let out.
Oh, fuck me.
You are the gasp I just let out.

We are the quiet hours no more.

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to experience becoming…

When I am with you, I look at you. I search your eyes for pleasure. I watch your jaw, the crease of your mouth, waiting for the taut line of resistance to give way to blushing pleasure. When I smile at you it is not just because I love the way my pussy petals bloom under your dextrous tongue and suckling lips – it is because you are there between my legs and you, wonderfully naked you, are more than I could’ve hoped for. When I moan with you, when I moan your name, it is because my skin against yours is like nothing before or after. You take my breath, now, then, there, and here. Fuck. My outline on the bed, my arms reaching for you, my legs spreading and my hips teasing you is real. This juice sliding past my velvet folds and over, slicking up my clit – all this wet is you and what you do to me.  My hands read you like a book and give with every breath they take. My nipples… a meditation I trace your body with. Our moans: such humbling, hungry need. I am butter against all your beautifully warm skin and your gorgeous hard cock. When you bend me over, I look back at you. I want to be your pleasure. I offer up all the naked I am for just one moan. Just one pump. Just one cum.

… and then, more.

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when the fig leaves refuse to fall…

Here I am. Still. Standing at the end of the bed. You’ve witnessed every inch of clothing slip off and down my soft skin. It lies at my feet, just as I stand at yours. I am beautiful but only you know this.  The way I look at you makes you feel the same but you tell yourself you’re not ready to believe. After all, how could I give you this… give you myself like this?

We are like new.
Discovered.
Acknowledged.

Seen.

When I climb on the bed, your heart beats so fast, your first instinct is to reach – to protect or to gather… you’ll never be sure. Your hands pause mid-air, framing me, guiding me and the spread of my legs around your body as I travel up, up, up. I am so much softer than you imagined. My smell surprisingly hot and sweet. My thighs brush slowly and trace along your sweet, shy outline – a man who has never quite been loved the way he fully needs. Up, up, up to lower myself down onto your face.

Yes, you must moan.
I am here for you.
My beautiful friend, my sweet lover.
Open your mouth for me.

You spread my folds and take my thickened clit between your hungry lips. My head drops back and I brace myself against the wall. I push my whetted need deeper into your suck, and I can already feel the squirt I want to cum.

My hands lose themselves in your hair, in the pulling and holding of you against my delicious cunt. Deeper and wider; here, between my silky lips is where I give in to the imagination of your insatiable mouth.

My moans are gasps. My gasps are yours. I am riding you like this. I have chosen you. In return, you give me impossible pleasure. Yes. Oh, God, yes.

Your clever mouth reads me, hears how my breath loses its own pace, and when I try to move away, when I try to protect myself from completely opening up, your knees bend, your hands remember their gentle strength and hold me tight – right where you want me, right where I am afraid to stay for fear of overwhelming you. For fear of finding too much of all I need.

And in this moment, you stop apologizing, you give in to the contradictions of your desire and you suck harder. You push your fingers into me and as you hook my g-spot, you choose me. You seek out my big brown eyes and see my raw affirmation. There is no going back; there is only what awaits us.

We fuck exactly the way we want to. We make a kind of love we once told ourselves was too much to hope for. We carve passion from trust as my pussy juice runs slick down your chin. I rub my clit – my thick, bold clit – chanting your name like a prayer. Your other hand slips behind and I spread my ass cheeks so you can dance and probe me from both sides. I am pinned. I am your every wish.

You are doing all this to me. I am only here because it’s you. We offer ourselves to the other in this ceremony of knowing, of sharing, of fucking. We have become all that we are too afraid to say.

I grind my most secret self into your face and I beg you. I. Beg. You. The naked need in my voice pushes you beyond what self-control you have left. You want me to lose my fear – to make a mess – and give to you fully.

I so want to cum for you… with you. Our moans are now cries and who cares who hears. You push me up and there on our knees, facing the other – slick from hours of sweaty seduction – our cum erupts, squirts, and flows over our tired hands.

All that matters is the other’s pleasure. All that matters is this most honest meeting in the middle. All that matters is us. We are a revelation that soaks the bed beneath us.

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it’s been days…

My clit has been thick with longing for you. I walk to the store, panties soaked with how you please me. Driven to distraction – to my bed, seeking relief. Release. I say your name into the mattress. Can you hear me?

Somehow, days pass and time does not take its toll – what was, is still now, and we lie breathless in one another’s arms. I need to taste you again. I need to hear you moan. To say “yes” in your ear. To watch you cum… so very hard for me.

It’s when you look at me writhing under the force of your careful touch, your sweet caress, your plunging curiosity that I reach for you. You make me smile. Blush. I bite my lip – it’s that, or your shoulder. Our tongues trace each gasp of surprise. Where did you come from? My beautiful, sweet lover. Where did you go?

My body trembles still, knowing the way you watch me – so present in my pleasure, so intent on piquing my need. Your certainty parts my legs and your mouth so generously sucks, laps, strokes, and presses my thrumming, wet clit. The parting of my folds and spreading of my holes become our serenade. Your perfect cock, a beautiful rod of deeper truths.

To feel my hand in yours is to discover adoration. To look at you is to read words newly born. Yes. To give witness to your permission is to buck and arch and reach and spill over into soak. Our meeting is a universe of secrets stored in towers of honeycomb. Each breath, another chance.

— Lola Moi —

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the last time i was here, so were you…

On my back, my pussy gushes with each plunge my fingers make. I work my clit for you; each gasp a testament to the depths of our mutual appreciation. My body dances to the rhythm of your breath. The look in your eyes mirror mine: we each are overwhelmed in this gift of meeting and pleasing, and in this heat of fueling the other’s secret desires. I am here with you; there’s no place I’d rather be.

I do this for you. You know this because you see it in me.

The echo of your moans thrill me – inspire me. I am so deep inside for you. How I love the way my sounds make you clench and squirm. Your face flushes as you restrain yourself, as you lick your lips and try to catch your breath… to steady yourself. You tell yourself you don’t need me like this. Inside, a chant: this will be another day without her, without seeing her, hearing her, smelling her like this. You believe you are immune to the force of our attraction. And in so many ways you are… just not today.

Just watching me makes you want to cum.

I whip myself closer to frenzy, my cunt overflows with joy to be so close – so spread – for you. “Fuck,” you whisper… mesmerized. You pull your cock out, and I slick it with my juiced-up hand. Your moan is lost in our kiss. As you begin the delicate work of coaxing honey-sweet precum out of your beautiful hard, my breath leaves me. Fuck… fuckfuckfuck. My sweet lover, just looking at you and my cunt thrums and throbs with desire.

For you.

My big brown eyes see you the way you can’t yet see yourself: unquenchable. Wholly desirable. We smile at one another and I realize I like you this way – lost in the “yes” of us, in the silky promise of my slicked-up inner thighs. What madness makes me want to dance like this for you and never stop? My back arches again and again. Our shared pleasure is the stuff dreams are made of.

Time is lost.

And soon, we find ourselves at a new beginning. Here, together, a man and a woman begin to glimpse The Impossible. As we receive from the other in ways that we feel wholly undeserving of, we begin to find ourselves new. With each panted breath, we mirror our own fragility. Our intimate release fans more than passion, we decimate the ancients of doubt, shame, and fear.

The dark is around us now but you are light.

You are brave enough to look into my eyes as my body shakes. You are promise. You are the repeated thot, the secret memory waiting impatiently years from now. But right now, together, we are the juiciest cum. Moan for me tonite and you will see.

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not our darkness that most frightens…

You sit in the light for me because I ask you to. You wait. You stroke my leg with a secret smile, and let me drink you in. I lose myself in my looking, in all your shadowed man-grooves. I lose my breath in your stillness. This pause we take is a lesson I don’t want to forget. I close my eyes; I want to imprint you deeper. When I open them, there you are – still waiting – wanting to be seen.

We are learning to be with one another, here, in this light that softens the heated edge of an afternoon delight. You lean back and even from this distance, I can taste your skin. Even as my supple clit thickens and my lips whet, you wait for me to be done with you. And in such thots, we stumble. Headlong, we stumble past one another in the crowded halls of Time. A cycle well-worn.

What songs are sung for a soul who seeks?
Who dances when the moon’s teat drips with longing?

There is nothing poetic about falling in love; it is starkest reality and basest need exposed. Utterly, it spends us even as we bleed. To love is to choose to be raw. Open.

Here with you, I walk blindly into an ancient light that conceals nothing, a light that wholly reveals from the inside. And suddenly, it is me sitting in front of another, being seen. We have shape-shifted into all our Unexpecteds. What there is, though, is light; a light that changes everything.

Look up, my soul whispers.
Here I am, my sweet.
Look up into Love.
Walk into the light.

I see you.

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just so…

The crease of my hips fits your hands (just so). You note this as you watch, as is your preference. Stripped down to silky skin – caramel soft on white, white sheets, I swing my hair over my shoulder and look back at you (just so).  Your gentleman hands hold my ankles sweet and I shift away from you onto the bed, onto my tummy.

Side-boobs gently bulge, and my hands slip between my legs (just so). I rock on my clit. I dig the soft, firm edge of my knuckles into the growing nub of my passion until my voice catches, making your heart skip a beat (just so).

You smell me now, this wet that’s been waiting for you. My panting breath catches in a moan and your head drops back. I am here, splayed, spread, juiced-up for you. I feel the air cool on my ass compared to the heat dripping between my curled fingers. You lightly brush my ass cheeks with your lips. I lift my ass (just so). And each time you brush, I lift with a deeper moan. My arms are taut from the strain of my personal-public pleasure; this show is for you alone.

My gasps strain for you with sounds ragged like the shape of your name, like the curves of “yes” and “please.” And when you finally reach for me, it is for the crease at my hips that hooks me and pulls me up (just so) onto the wet of your mouth, the swell of your glorious hard… the slam and pound of our voracious need.

Just so.
Sweet Lover, just so.

– Lola Moi –

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a night that is a day…

I spread myself.

Give me your weight.

My arms wrap around and mark the width you are on top. My hips buck up and pause so that your heat sinks deeper.

Yes. There, there. Oh, God, yes.

My hands reach around you, up and down, I caress the waves of each pump, gripping you with each crest our moans make. I bite your lip, your shoulder – it’s all I can think to do.

We are fucking, oh fuck.

All I want to do is be filled by you. I want to taste your need. Pound me right to my core with your desire; make my cunt throb with subtle ache for days.

We dance love when it is not… and so much more.

In the silence we create as you look into my eyes, I see what I don’t understand. I feel your hand – gentle, firm – around my neck, and I squirm for a kiss.

Again. Please, again. Oh my fuck, don’t stop now.

There is no denial. There is only time – the time we take to swallow, submerge, and satiate the other. Your cock bobs and weaves its way. My mouth opens, as it must.

Fuck. Your mouth… fuck me, I love your mouth.

There is no end, only what begins anew.