Secret Thots for a Very Private Gentleman
tales, temptation, and titillation…
I like it when you take the lead. I like to know what you want and how you want me. I like to feel you guide your own pleasure when you it’s obvious you are following mine. I like it when your jaw clenches and your breath catches lightly. I like to be surprised. I like your hands on me. And in me.
I know the rest of you is soon to follow.
It’s windy today. All the windows are open. The leaves wrinkle the air like your warm, post-coital back wrinkles fresh linens. The wind reminds me of moans. Of our pleasure sounds. And how juicy I am when you’re between my legs.
It’s hard to describe the feeling of my long, silky and wet rubbing, pressing, pulsating against your strength and heat and bristles, width, and length. My body knows it, though; even now as I write it, my clit trembles and my lips swell at the thot.
…
I have to pause. I have to slowly slide my summer dress up and slip my silky panties to the side so that I can lay myself down on my bed and tend to the quivering cum I will become with thots of you.
…
How is it that the air carries the echo of your moans – some, the most delicious I’ve ever heard? How do your eyes manage to pierce my armour in memory and dreams? What mystery and magic are you that stops me in my tracks on sunny, windy days and makes me cum as sweet and deeply as I just did?
To the uninformed, we are two people, neutral in our delight, calm in one another’s company. No one could guess that deep in the night (during the hours that bewitch the morning), you lick your finger and feel the texture of my juice. Still. Unlike your tongue, no one knows quite how my clit swells. Unlike your eyes, no one has seen me bend and beg and coo and ride us both to freedom. Few could paint with words the way you draw me deeper into these noises I make – like velvet grinding into steel. It is impossible for anyone to know the ease with which we sit together over a meal or a drink – every syllable our eager fuck, our sweet love-making in every swallow.
Fuck, I need you here.
You have such a pretty mouth.
To feed it only kisses
would be a wasted opportunity.
— Michael Faudet —
Right now.
For you.
Dear Gentle Sir,
My hands love your beautiful, moaning, jaw-clenching hard almost as much as my mouth does which is a very close to how deeply my pussy does.
When I spread, lift, arch, and fold myself for you it is so you can see my wet, smell my desire, and taste my need for you.
I reach for you with limbs splayed, with every whispered moan and guttural sigh, my curves twist to fit into your mouth, your hands, over and around your gorgeous, thick cock. It is not enough to see every inch of you, I want to taste you, too… inside and out.
My tenderest touch on your sweetest skin is shy adoration. My firm grip, a bold promise of trust, an oath to keep you safe inside the mysterious depths of our shared intimacies. My smile, a mirror to the many delights you are.
All I ask is that you look back into my eyes, hold your own and fight for us, protect and meet me in this delicious Unexpected where by some miracle we are truly seen.
And I will flower, I will cum for you. I will suck, suckle, stroke, ride, buck, fuck and make love to you with all the grace and hunger I am. And I am. Fuck, am I ever.
Dreamingly yours,
Lola Moi xo
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.