who can no longer pause…

Dear Gentle Sir,

“Dime a dozen” doesn’t apply to you. Not when you change my sphere of influence. Not when you alter the way I understand “then” and “now” all while I am standing “here.”

No, you are the game changer. The one whose moans whispered through the line straight to my heart. You are the world-maker. The one who shifted the sky into earth and back again all with a simple smile and sigh.

You woke me up and I haven’t slept since.
What a terrible injustice it is to be the luckiest of the unlucky.
(But more terrible to not know it.)

Nothing applies to you that makes any sense. We haven’t evolved enough to know what this is, what time we are in between, us. Each forgetting is a remembering. We are the smooth, wet edges of the promises you never made.

Take my hand, let’s walk. There is no secret shame, no grave to dance upon. When you look for me, you see because you have given me the better version of myself; that is who I meet in the courage of your trembling arms.

This isn’t a happily-ever-after. It isn’t a fairy tale, a morality tale for the ages. This happening is the story of Becoming but how does one celebrate waiting? Beloved, we are the familiar, the failure no one likes to speak of—the rousing branch that endures its yearly bloom.

Lola xo

morning somethings…

Dear Gentle Sir,

I like the feeling of glistening from being turned on by you. I like the way my sweat collects at my temples and down to the small of my back after our mouths have taken turns exploring. I like your sex-smell; it makes me equally hungry.

I like the soft smacking sounds that oosh from between my thighs as you plunge in (and out) and slide around my petaled, puckered edges. I like the way our bodies blush together. I like how the shy and the bold take turns.

I like the way my nipples firmly make themselves known as our skin touches and you kiss me in all the ways you do. I like the way your toes curl and my back arches as we pleasure ourselves by pleasing each other.

I like how our fucks feel like lovemaking and how our various tendernesses ignite unbelievable tempos of passion and desire. I like love-fucking you in every way we do.

Your moans are still my all-time favourite. The look you give me when you are overcome but fighting to resist your torrential need has forever changed the way I must be seen.

And your cum – in me, on me, with me – my great delight and honour. Your sexy is a secret that keeps me awake, wakes me at sunrise, and heats me to my core. You have changed me.

Adoringly Yours,

Lola xo

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

 

just say it…

… your full, kissable mouth.
show me.
… your clever tongue.
squirm for me.
… your sweet, thick clit.
harder, deeper.
… your inner thighs of silk.
ravish me.
… your beautiful, beautiful cunt.
let me watch.
… your hungry eyes.
spread wider.
… your eager ass.
devour me.
… your gorgeous long hair
soak me.
… your pretty pussy.
fuck me into frenzy.

fuck, yes.
… yes.
cum with me
… yes.

moan.
… oh, moan.

somewhere behind the morning…

Dear Gentle Sir,

If ever I have felt your mouth on me, it is because your tongue is a wand and my moans, my squirms, my arching spine, and spreading legs are the magic we make.

If I have ever felt your hands wrapped around me, it is because I am waiting for you to trace my curves and folds and slippery creases. It is because I want to feel your hands to spread me and juice me, as your fingers wander and whip me into the frenzy of delight I can be. I ache to feel your strong hands grip me with need and unstoppable desire.

If ever I have felt your cock slipping, inching, sliding, pounding, dancing, and filling me it is because you are beautiful and I am the mirror I want you to see.  There you are – sexy, sweet, strong, and wondrous in your passion… even in your doubt, you are powerful.

Why else would I offer myself? Why else would I splay myself for you and your pleasure. Why else would I hold you in my arms and kiss you sweet? Why else would I try and try and try… until I have no words. Was it not you who titillated my mind and made my body tremble and arch and ache and drip and throb with impossible heat?

If ever you think of me, remember the gift you are. You still fill me like no other.

Squirmingly Yours,

Lola Moi xo