My mouth is a fire escape.
The words coming out
don’t care that they are naked.
There is something burning in there.
— Andrea Gibson —
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.
resolutions…
into the sunset…
“You’re riding me.”
This thot spills out of your mouth in breathy whisper before you can stop yourself. Though you are not alone; we are both slightly amazed at this. . . fit. My silky thighs tense. I spread and you slip in even deeper. Your hands firm. This is where we want me. You, to see me, to drink in the upward curve of my swinging tits. Me to pinch my nipples for our mirrored jaws, dropped. I want you in awe. I want your chant “Yeah, oh yeah, Fuck.” You hold my hips in place and I buck. The last of your fullness pushes my smooth lips aside. I swell with the stretch of your cock filling me to its end. A ragged gasp falls out of me, I am over-heating. . . pulsing with need. I dig my fingers into your chest and harder, I thrust into you.
I am.
I’m riding you into the sunset.
My juice, my juice slaps us sweet to slick. Me above, you below. Breathy silence rides the wind of our rhythm, of my fwapping thighs and our soaked groins. When you thumb my clit, you push me deeper into your gaze and I break, I can’t do this. . . can’t bear the blurring of what we both want. I take. In this moment, I take your length and your beauty and our trust. I inhale with the only part of me that matters. I gorge on our giving, on our passion. I am insatiable. Right until you flip me around and take me from behind, ass up, legs entwined, I take you in. We fill this saddle and we fuck. We fuck. We fuck me hard and deep into this forbidden night. My own button pushing, pushing us both, spilling us over the edge.
I feel your lasso fingers well into the next day. Invisible, if not for this ache you’ve branded into me. Your voice the echo that tethers me to a Promise of More. So much more.
when you’re standing in the sun…
My memory loves you;
it asks about you all the time.
– Jonathan Carroll –
something tells me…
He offers to bite my nipples through my shirt.
I offer to fuck him until his sweet cum sighs through me,
making me hunger for more.
Something tells me this could be a win-win kind of sitch-ee-ation.
release the hound(s)…
Those scissors, there.
Spread your palm, wide.
Slip your fingers through, all the way.
…
Cut. me. out. of. here.
cumming into your own…
… our battle cry for authenticity and the ideas it creates about who we are can sometimes serve to guard us against vulnerability. These places we call “in-authenticity” may just be the edges, or the uncharted territories, of who we consider ourselves to be. Consciously going to the edges of what we feel is “authentic” may actually be an opening to increased possibilities…
– necessary shenanigans, “the practice of play” –
feeding you…
My fingers find their way to your mouth. You open for me and let me in. Tentatively… no, gently, I enter: one finger at first. Your tongue: warm and intelligent, dances with my curious skin. We listen to the music of our breath, and soon the tempo of my heartbeat pushes me deeper. I can taste you. I can taste the pleasure between us.
I moan.
You sigh most deliciously.
I could stay here forever, with my breasts resting snug against your chest, your hands lightly holding my hips. Our lips barely touch. We are so close together… all we are is breath. My fingers deftly trace and mark my need; my gasps become the sound of our shared desire. Your warm, moist, hungry mouth tugs and I arch as your confident hands pull my wet closer. Yes, my wet – you can taste it through my fingers and now we both moan.
Your soft tongue wrapped around my finger is naked…
singin’ away my blues…
