Posted on

tunnel vision…

The problem with looking for images for this blog is that on days like today, I simply cannot choose; you are everywhere. You are in me, on me, behind me. We are wrapped, splayed, spread. I am reaching, pumping, dripping.  Together: under, beside, on top. And again: licking, moaning, squirting.

Lover, you are everywhere.

Each image, every video reminds me of what we’ve already done or fuels hope for what might yet be. And I am whipped into horny wet… here, where I sit. I soak my panties thinking about you. I rush home, I climb into bed, into the tub – anywhere I can be wet wet wet. And all I want is to cum with you – for you… and you, for me.

And you have no idea, my Sweet how sexy you truly are.

Truth is, these days are many – so fucking many days like today – when you are all my skin can think about. When I am overwhelmed with wanting you. When I know how well-met we are in that secret place the other needs.

For how complex things are, this is simple: I want you. And I know: you want me. Fuck, I want you more than I know how to say. Fuck fuck fuck fuck. Just, fuck.

tunnel vision

 

Posted on

my body is a cage…

My skin is soft but what part of me isn’t (besides the scars, I mean)?  My skin, a kind of map, a version of me you choose to trace and buy into. At least for a time. I imagine your fingers trace me because, like me, they are curious about the route we are on and like me, wonder what sights we will see along the way.

We seek direction even when we say we prefer to be lost.

My body secretly warms to your touch; we pretend there is nowhere else you’d rather be. And when we smile, it is not because anything has settled, it is simpler than all that; it is because something grows – and the mystery of our meeting, and sharing, and fatally flawed offerings fill us to spite our tenderest selves.

Yet, in the abundance of hope, in the sanctuary of faith, I speak words full of sacred. I speak the fullness of myself. I utter shape that carves the path leading straight to my heart.

And we dance.
And we dance.
And we dance.

The word comes from the body. When you speak, breath reunites thought with flesh. And with that comes a whole new awareness of what might be true. Or not.

Or not.

– Lola Moi –

Posted on

as you wish…

as you wishYou tie me up, tenderly but firmly; first my wrists then my ankles. We do not speak. The lights are dim, my curves and your contours dance with candlelit shadows. I watch you and you are beautiful: the muscles in your torso and arms bunch and lengthen as you prepare me. I am calm. I trust you. We want to be here together. Alone.

You are gentle yet insistent.
My hips buck the air, seeking out your hunger.
You exhaust your tongue and jaw muscles from eating me out.
My nails want to scratch your back each time I cry out.
You use up the batteries in my vibrator.
My pussy juices up your hands, your forearms, your chest, your face, and glorious cock.
You dip your fingers in as deep as they can go and ask me if I want more.
My head thrashes, my limbs strain to spread wider for you.
You give yourself permission.
My pussy throbs for days from the pounding you give me.
You please me simply because you love pleasing me.
My arms finally free, you lie breathless in my arms.

You tell me there’s no other place you’d rather be
and in that moment
I believe you.

her curves are your dreams cum true

Posted on

our bodies…

i like my body when it is with your
body. It is so quite a new thing.
Muscles better and nerves more.
i like your body. i like what it does,
i like its hows. i like to feel the spine
of your body and its bones, and the trembling
–firm–smooth ness and which i will
again and again and again
kiss, i like kissing this and that of you,
i like, slowly stroking the, shocking fuzz
of your electric fur, and what–is–it comes
over parting flesh… And eyes big Love–crumbs,

and possibly i like the thrill

of under me you quite so new

– e.e. cummings –