forever is composed of nows…

I wake to the memory of your body; kissing your back, your ass, your chest. My fingers running along your tummy and waist, under your shirt. Your smells. Our hands gripped tight in sweet, heated pleasure. My legs around your hips. My feet pushing against yours & in your mouth… the way you look at me when we kiss… of being in your arms, tracing your width, wrapping my arms around you.

http://letmedothis.com/post/51644263364/let-me-playEven when I’m not even fully awake, my body yearns for yours.  All I want is to feel that again – to feel you on my skin and inside me, to slide you between my lips, and feel you so deep. Fuck. Here in bed, naked for you, you make me moan, like, out loud. And I want you to hear me, to watch me take my time, and hold me as I buck: fuckfuck fucking hot fuck.

Hit the snooze button.
Hit it hard.
Yes, hard.
Harder.
Fuck, yes.
H…

her way…

her cup runneth over

Had she her way,
she would lick the lengths of love with ardent suck.

She would lie, silken breasts spilling to the side
reaching back
and pull him down on her
Hard.

Arching, lifting her ass so he could spread her fuck-hungry folds with heated, throbbing shaft.
She would let him pound her.
Each cry a soft, urgent
“Yes. Oh, yes.”

This she would do (and more), only if she had her way.

– Lola Moi –

catching the gravy train