But also I say this: that light
is an invitation
to happiness,
and that happiness, when it’s done right,
is a kind of holiness…
— Mary Oliver —
poppies…
there is a crack in everything…
that’s how the light gets in.
you just made me…
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?