making art is hard…
You will bite my bold nipples through my shirt. I will strip while you watch, leaving my panties for you. You will slowly slip my panties to the side, pausing to adore my smooth, swollen lips. I will spread my long, smooth legs as you press your tongue hot against my clit. I will buck against your teeth. You will suck some more. I will moan and grab your head, pushing you deeper into my slippery warmth. You will moan. I will echo so ardently you almost cum. Your face will fuck me wild. I will cum in your sweet, hungry, clever mouth. And neither of us will apologize.
one for the road…
I’m always happy with ‘once more.’
With a mouth and hands like yours, why wouldn’t I be?!
slurping slit…
Right now.
For you.
paradise by the dashboard lights…
I was driving today in the rain. Stopped at a light, I dropped my chapstick between my legs… like, deep between my legs. When I went to retrieve it, my fingers brushed my clit and I paused. Slowly, I began to trace the smooth material covering my most secret of parts.
I realized how hard it must be for you to find the trip wire of my clit when I am packaged so. I imagined you reaching from the passenger’s seat – like the last time we drove together. My legs parted gently. I saw your beautiful face, your intoxicating eyes, and a moan escaped as I – as you – pressed hard on the tip of my warming iceberg.
The vigour of my rubbing increased until the friction peaked in a pulse of wet, soaking my soft and pretty-now-slippery panties. Cars were honking and driving around me by now, the light having changed long ago. I slipped my hand into my tights and from the side, released my pulsing lips.
Soft.
Fuck, my cunt is so warm and butter-soft when I am like this… when my body remembers your touch.
I danced my fingers between my folds. I could smell myself and my sweet aroma of need. I licked my lips, dropping my head back on the headrest. My thumb rubbed and pressed my clit (exactly the way I love – the way that makes my legs tremble) as my fingers spread and slipped into the wet-wet of my cunt.
When my fingers (yes, plural) filled me, it was your hand. My gasps and moans were echo to yours. The heat of my rosy cheeks fogged up my windows. My hips shimmied around my spontaneous self-pleasure. My fingers – yours – plunged in and out, in and out as my clit grew fuller and unbelievably plush under my thumb – the same thumb that I now imagined was your mouth.
Wet.
Fuck, my cunt is so wet and thrumming-with-thick hunger when you are with me like this. You whipped me into a moaning, trembling, arching plea for more.
When finally I came, my cries matched the rhythm of the dashboard’s hazard light. My breasts arched to the sunroof and my toes curled inside my rainboots. You must’ve heard how your name danced on my O-shaped lips between the cacophony of “yes!” and “oh!”
I licked my fingers for you, sitting there catching your breath beside me. I licked my fingers as my other hand slowly opened your pants. I licked my fingers as my wet mingled with the heat inside your underwear. As I gripped your beautiful hard and kissed you, your hand returned the grip as it slipped into my hair.
Hard.
Our mutual grips re-heat our imagination and I don’t care how many lights need to change for you to cum with me… I just need to hear your sweet release.
drink in the view…
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
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.
you push me to the edge…
and
I need to hear you cum.
I need to cum for you.
I need you with me
now.