Tag Archives: love should inspire greatness in you

immaculate consistency…

Dear Gentle Sir,

At the crosswalk, the stranger eyes me from the other side of the street. He imagines what might be my favourite position even as he places me in his favourite position. He wonders what I might taste like. And if my full lips could make him cum.

He imagines his view standing over me, bent over, ass up, taking it from behind with the kind of wild pleasure he imagines he could give me.

He imagines my expression as I finger myself for him. He watches me intently. Trying to guess what my nipples look like. He notes my long, lean legs and imagines spreading them, watching my pretty pussy squirt all over his tidy work pants.

I allow this. I look him in the eye. He meets my gaze and for a very long moment, he believes that I want him just like he wants me. The light changes. We step into the street and we take deliberate steps towards one other.

I look at this body and appreciate its breadth and width. Without a doubt, his cock would fill me many times over. I note his strong hands and thick neck and the way his jaw clenches as we draw ever closer.

I see the hunger in his eyes—I know that look. He is expectant as our paths meet in the middle of intersection.

He slows a fraction, straightening his spine, making room in his pants for the throbbing shaft that is heating up for me. In that moment, I know I can say anything and it—he— will be mine.

And all that comes to mind is your name.

Only Yours my Love,

Lola xo

skin lane…

People think that it is in the tangle of bodies, in the actual congress, that one person invades another and takes possession of them; that it is on the bed that we give ourselves up.

Well it is true that there is a surrender there that is unlike any other, but the real time they get under your skin is when you spend these hours alone, preparing for them; imagining them.

That is everything, sometimes more.

 

— Neil Bartlett

even if it’s nothing…

even if it's nothing

 

 

 

 

 

 

I couldn’t take my eyes off him.
Like a desert wanderer afraid of mirages,
I gazed at my oasis, but he was real.

— Laura Whitcomb —

you were called auxochrome…

the one who captures colour.

you were called auxochrome

I, Chromophore — the one who gives colour.

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