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perhaps you will…

I just want you to lie still. Naked, in front of me. I want you to let me look at you, really look at you in all your glory. I want you to see my acceptance. I want you to see my delight. I want you to see my desire for the man you are, lying before me. Don’t close your eyes while I tenderly trace your skin. Be prepared for when I look into your eyes so that our souls may lock even as my fingers and hands continue their journey along your various lengths and widths.

You are glorious. Your giving heats my cheeks. Your quiet moans and wild eyes soak me through. You are so fucking beautiful when you are… this. I could spend all day like this with you.

And what textures you are! Touching you like this, like your lover, quickens my breath. Your body’s dance is my song. Soon we will sing and our cries will crescendo and harmonize and in sweaty disarray, I will let you watch me cum and beg you to join me.

I hope you will.

perhaps you will

Posted on

not the first…

Dear Gentle Sir,

I loved a man who was afraid of the Possible – the enormity of it. With me, he began to experience himself in his truest dimensions, that is, until he couldn’t bear it. So, he blamed me for his growing fear. He became afraid of me, not realizing it had nothing to do with me; I simply showed up and held up a mirror. He looked. He saw. He chose another – as is his wont. He prefers that which keeps him, contains him, controls him.

But even now, it is still in him – all that is Possible.
And it still has nothing to do with me.

These days, he tells himself things are great, that he is in a better place than ever before but he’s a step beside where he was before me: he is still small; he remains secretly, deeply afraid of the enormity of himself, of his own Light. He is happiest when he can hide.

Where once there was love, there now lives insight and a kind of wounded wisdom. Every time I kiss you, I wonder if you will (again), like him, take your turn and blame me for your fear? Or will you focus on my nipples, my glowing clit, and hot moans… hoping to drown out the terrifying call of what is Possible within you? Of the choices you are too afraid to make?

Truth is, it won’t be the first time.
I imagine you won’t try to be the last.
If I’m still here, that is.

Thoughtfully Yours,

Lola xo

Posted on

i need to cum…

Dear Gentle Sir,

Mornings like this, I wake full of need… and the magic that is my hands, just doesn’t quite cut it. Fuck.

Achingly Yours,

Lola Moi xo

ps: Your moans are the sexiest thing… ever.