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tunnel vision…

The problem with looking for images for this blog is that on days like today, I simply cannot choose; you are everywhere. You are in me, on me, behind me. We are wrapped, splayed, spread. I am reaching, pumping, dripping.  Together: under, beside, on top. And again: licking, moaning, squirting.

Lover, you are everywhere.

Each image, every video reminds me of what we’ve already done or fuels hope for what might yet be. And I am whipped into horny wet… here, where I sit. I soak my panties thinking about you. I rush home, I climb into bed, into the tub – anywhere I can be wet wet wet. And all I want is to cum with you – for you… and you, for me.

And you have no idea, my Sweet how sexy you truly are.

Truth is, these days are many – so fucking many days like today – when you are all my skin can think about. When I am overwhelmed with wanting you. When I know how well-met we are in that secret place the other needs.

For how complex things are, this is simple: I want you. And I know: you want me. Fuck, I want you more than I know how to say. Fuck fuck fuck fuck. Just, fuck.

tunnel vision

 

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gone are the birds that were our summer guests…

looking legsThe crickets are raucous; wild for a reason, I guess.
The wind feels like… courage.
(Like that, only simpler.)
The fire pit smoulders; my hair smells of ash.
Tonite.
A season comes to pass framed by silky memories
and eventual, hopeful strains for some near-distant night.
You. Me. This.
We spread ourselves wide to the horizon that cradles our future –
the velvet expanse of our yet-to-be-known.
Awash in the restlessness of almost-goneness
I wish I had more time
grateful I can leave some of all that was behind.
A fruition of time that on this eve
blossoms and wilts.

Leaving is bittersweet.
It always is.
L

– Lola Moi –