Whe
n I say “yes,” I mean mark me with your suck, fill me with your sweet fuck, grip me harder with each buck, drink me dry, take my breath, heal my heart, look me in the eye when I arch and reach and beg and cry your name so loud my ears ring.
how to attract a conscious/ evolved man…
http://www.elephantjournal.com/2015/06/how-to-attract-a-consciousevolved-man/
There is no coming to consciousness without pain.
People will do anything, no matter how absurd,
in order to avoid facing their own soul.
One does not become enlightened by imagining figures of light,
but by making the darkness conscious.
— C.G. Jung —
drink in the view…
Dear Gentle Sir,
My hands love your beautiful, moaning, jaw-clenching hard almost as much as my mouth does which is a very close to how deeply my pussy does.
When I spread, lift, arch, and fold myself for you it is so you can see my wet, smell my desire, and taste my need for you.
I reach for you with limbs splayed, with every whispered moan and guttural sigh, my curves twist to fit into your mouth, your hands, over and around your gorgeous, thick cock. It is not enough to see every inch of you, I want to taste you, too… inside and out.
My tenderest touch on your sweetest skin is shy adoration. My firm grip, a bold promise of trust, an oath to keep you safe inside the mysterious depths of our shared intimacies. My smile, a mirror to the many delights you are.
All I ask is that you look back into my eyes, hold your own and fight for us, protect and meet me in this delicious Unexpected where by some miracle we are truly seen.
And I will flower, I will cum for you. I will suck, suckle, stroke, ride, buck, fuck and make love to you with all the grace and hunger I am. And I am. Fuck, am I ever.
Dreamingly yours,
Lola Moi xo
this is what we (don’t) do…
At any moment, you have a choice,
that either leads you closer to your spirit
or further away from it.
— Thich Nhat Hanh —
it’s been days…
My clit has been thick with longing for you. I walk to the store, panties soaked with how you please me. Driven to distraction – to my bed, seeking relief. Release. I say your name into the mattress. Can you hear me?
Somehow, days pass and time does not take its toll – what was, is still now, and we lie breathless in one another’s arms. I need to taste you again. I need to hear you moan. To say “yes” in your ear. To watch you cum… so very hard for me.
It’s when you look at me writhing under the force of your careful touch, your sweet caress, your plunging curiosity that I reach for you. You make me smile. Blush. I bite my lip – it’s that, or your shoulder. Our tongues trace each gasp of surprise. Where did you come from? My beautiful, sweet lover. Where did you go?
My body trembles still, knowing the way you watch me – so present in my pleasure, so intent on piquing my need. Your certainty parts my legs and your mouth so generously sucks, laps, strokes, and presses my thrumming, wet clit. The parting of my folds and spreading of my holes become our serenade. Your perfect cock, a beautiful rod of deeper truths.
To feel my hand in yours is to discover adoration. To look at you is to read words newly born. Yes. To give witness to your permission is to buck and arch and reach and spill over into soak. Our meeting is a universe of secrets stored in towers of honeycomb. Each breath, another chance.
— Lola Moi —