Tag Archives: cum


Dear Gentle Sir,

Before I fuck your brains out, I will kiss the palm of your hand and gently suckle your neck, just behind your earlobe.

Before I make your toes curl, I will wrap my tongue around your balls and hum my moaning need to feel you burst with cum inside me.

Before you watch me arch and squirt my pleasure all over your hand, I will ride and slide my slit along your cock with my hands pressed against your chest.

I will moan your name like a growl. I will moan your name with every buck and tug and pound. I will moan your name to the beat of my every pleasure. How we will dance together under this full moon!

Before you wake, I will fuel your dreams with memories so potent you will weep not to find me there.

Always, in all ways,

Lola xo

oh, my juice…

I masturbate.
I think of you.
I cum.

oh my juice… because there is this: your lips, your tongue, your fingers, your anything you want… tracing over these dips and waves of me. You trace me, leaving a trail. And I watch you. I fucking want you. My hands hold you – slip along your nape – and my fingers slide through your hair as you pass over me again. And again. My fingers grip your dewy tip, I cup the throat of your cock, choking it, gripping your heat; your shaft warms me. I know because I feel your heat mix with mine – slick, between my thighs and folds of my sweet cunt – it slides between my ass cheeks. I am like this for you. We will fuck soon. I want you to fill me as much as you want, as deep as you can, as hard and hungry as we must. I tug and spin my clever fingers around the head of your throbbing need and down, down, to your rock-hard base. Your balls fit perfectly in my hands. You are so beautiful.
I kiss you and bite your lip – my tongue, a foreshadow of what is to cum.
You moan and grow even more in my hands.
Oh, my juice… I am so wet. So fucking wet.

the way we live now (or, in search of lost time)…

Tonight, the moon is sombre though you wouldn’t know it;
it nestles its backside into the sky’s lap, each buck-and-grind a falling star.
Nights like this make one ache in mysterious ways.

A man once fingered me in a dark parking lot. His fingers were long and clever. He growled his pleasure in my ear and bit my lip. When he made me cum, my head fell back with air clusters catching in my throat. His kisses were coos. Tears streamed down my face; he said they tasted sweet, like stardust.

Constellations were the First Stories; we are all descended from such brilliance. We are the dreams of ancestors come true. When we look into another’s eyes, we give up the secret of what we most need – the Darkness holds it until the wind takes it up… and away, back to its first breath.

We are the ache of life’s mysterious ways.
The moon is restless as you lick my skin with the tip of your cock.
Tonight, the darkness holds us.
We are not alone.

Lola Moi –

carrots are not french fries…

I haven’t yet…
but I like thinking about

Your voice.
I look forward to that.

I haven’t for awhile…
but I want to
with you.

I look forward to your…
I ache to make you
to hear you…

I ache-with-arch to cum with you.

Listen to me.
I haven’t yet but I need to.
– Lola Moi –

la vie en rose…

You think I don’t know
when you ask me to roll over
lift spread fold my legs
and shift my moans to the side
that you are finding the fit
you have with her
with me.

You think I don’t cum
thinking about her sweet, tight cunt
engorged with your thick, eager cock
as you lift spread fold her legs
shift her to the side
and overoverover fill her
with your love.

– Lola Moi –

a harbour like st. ives…

Dear Gentle Sir,

There is this:

The morning dew.
My velvet petals.

My body coos for you as it often does in the morning… in case you’ve forgotten. In case you wanted to be reminded. And now, as I slide my hands down the length of my torso, my warm, waking body stirs to what I imagine are your hands. Like mist on mornings, I wake to wanting you and your ways on me. But there is more. And more I cannot say.

I think of Keats:

For you to trust me and me to trust you,
you have to accept me and I have to accept you
the way I am and the way you are,
fully seen and deeply known,
with no need of apology –
with my body imperfections and with yours,
with my character shortcomings and yours, too…
for you are a sacred gift to me
and I am a sacred gift to you,
and gifts are to be gratefully accepted
and heartily enjoyed,
but only if you trust me and I trust you,
can we let ourselves be ourselves
and forget real or unreal barriers,
conventions or inhibitions,
as to profoundly enjoy
what we’ve been granted:
you – the gift of me,
me – the gift of you,
as deeply as our inner worlds
can take us in,
with trust
and joy.

… that, and I want to make you cum hard. Yes, that, there is that.

Softly Yours,

Lola Moi xo

after all is set and done…

There was that time
You traced the top of my hipbone
with the tip of your warm finger
and you shivered before me.


You came so hard
your brain froze and you looked
at me utterly amazed
wondering aloud how I could’ve happened to you
when here I thot you’d happened to me.

There is no remembering room.

Dance cards fill up.
Eggs crack in nests and never hatch.
Washed hands don’t stay clean.

After all.

happy boy


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