Bring me all of your dreams,
You dreamer,
Bring me all your
Heart melodies
That I may wrap them
In a blue cloud-cloth
Away from the too-rough fingers
Of the world.
— Langston Hughes —
holy fuck, yes…
Dear Gentle Sir,
There is a spot in my clit that, when pressed/squeezed/sucked, fills my entire body with delicious squirm. There is a spot along your jaw that has the same effect on me – mostly when you look me in the eyes and smile. And always when you moan. Always then.
There is spot in the crook of each elbow (cousin to the same spots behind my knees) that, when licked/suckled/nibbled, fills me wet and raw with hunger. There is a spot under the head of your cock that has the same effect on me – mostly when you groan and tremble uncontrollably with electric need. And always when you blush. Always then.
There is a spot between us that is silent, still. A space that awaits your touch – suspended time. A breath between us, sometimes translated into words we read. Other times, into the secret, soft crevices of the other’s ear. A pause that is the slick juice between my legs, the hardening of my nipples, the arch of my ass into the air, the sweet swelling of my lips, and the reaching of my heart’s skin to feel you inside me. Again.
And again.
Fuck, I need to feel you again.
To see your eyes full of need for me, and for you to see mine, too.
There is a spot inside you, inside me, that neither of us can deny. (As much as we have tried. And will likely try some more.) You: the calm before the storm. Me: the “yes” to your “no.” We trace these spots – so many spots – in our mind’s eye, each time we lick the tips of fingers that still shine with the slick secret of our honey cum.
To remember is to do.
To do is to create memories new.
“Tell me more. Show me.”
Please,
Lola Moi xo
to which we are attached…
Dear Gentle Sir,
There are things I remember on nights like this when the moon is full and wind blows off the crashing waves of a lake.
There was the way it felt to walk hand-in-hand, your tall shoulder shadowing mine. Our smiles, silent backdrop to the tinkling summer leaves around us. The grit of sand underfoot, wrapped around my sighs just like your strong arms once held me.
The kiss that stopped us both. The hands that peeled our clothes. The legs that gripped you as you lifted and carried me. The bed that creaked under the weight of our anticipation.
The smooth edges of your groaning cock. The weight of your chest and hips. The wet roaming of our tongues. The bucking of our moans. The spreading of my legs and bending of my back. The fucking of our fingers and mouths and more… so much.
The way it felt to look into your eyes and want more. The way it felt to see my desire mirrored. The way you moaned and reached… for me, for your cock, for me… again. The spontaneous shifts and spreadings and splitting aparts to deeper wet, to heat beyond either of our wildest dreams.
To want you. To see you. To fuck you. To squirt for you. To cum with you. To find in you, reciprocal delight.
There are things I remember on nights like this when the moon is full and wind blows off the crashing waves of a lake. Mostly, I remember magic and minor miracles… puffs of Goodness. Mostly, I remember you.
Longingly Yours,
Lola Moi xo
the last time i was here, so were you…
On my back, my pussy gushes with each plunge my fingers make. I work my clit for you; each gasp a testament to the depths of our mutual appreciation. My body dances to the rhythm of your breath. The look in your eyes mirror mine: we each are overwhelmed in this gift of meeting and pleasing, and in this heat of fueling the other’s secret desires. I am here with you; there’s no place I’d rather be.
I do this for you. You know this because you see it in me.
The echo of your moans thrill me – inspire me. I am so deep inside for you. How I love the way my sounds make you clench and squirm. Your face flushes as you restrain yourself, as you lick your lips and try to catch your breath… to steady yourself. You tell yourself you don’t need me like this. Inside, a chant: this will be another day without her, without seeing her, hearing her, smelling her like this. You believe you are immune to the force of our attraction. And in so many ways you are… just not today.
Just watching me makes you want to cum.
I whip myself closer to frenzy, my cunt overflows with joy to be so close – so spread – for you. “Fuck,” you whisper… mesmerized. You pull your cock out, and I slick it with my juiced-up hand. Your moan is lost in our kiss. As you begin the delicate work of coaxing honey-sweet precum out of your beautiful hard, my breath leaves me. Fuck… fuckfuckfuck. My sweet lover, just looking at you and my cunt thrums and throbs with desire.
For you.
My big brown eyes see you the way you can’t yet see yourself: unquenchable. Wholly desirable. We smile at one another and I realize I like you this way – lost in the “yes” of us, in the silky promise of my slicked-up inner thighs. What madness makes me want to dance like this for you and never stop? My back arches again and again. Our shared pleasure is the stuff dreams are made of.
Time is lost.
And soon, we find ourselves at a new beginning. Here, together, a man and a woman begin to glimpse The Impossible. As we receive from the other in ways that we feel wholly undeserving of, we begin to find ourselves new. With each panted breath, we mirror our own fragility. Our intimate release fans more than passion, we decimate the ancients of doubt, shame, and fear.
The dark is around us now but you are light.
You are brave enough to look into my eyes as my body shakes. You are promise. You are the repeated thot, the secret memory waiting impatiently years from now. But right now, together, we are the juiciest cum. Moan for me tonite and you will see.
things i would like to do to you…
arms above my head…
When I put my hands on your body on your flesh I feel the history of that body. Not just the beginning of its forming in that distant lake but all the way beyond its ending. I feel the warmth and texture and simultaneously I see the flesh unwrap from the layers of fat and disappear. I see the fat disappear from the muscle. I see the muscle disappearing from around the organs and detaching itself from the bones. I see the organs gradually fade into transparency leaving a gleaming skeleton gleaming like ivory that slowly resolves until it becomes dust. I am consumed in the sense of your weight the way your flesh occupies momentary space the fullness of it beneath my palms. I am amazed at how perfectly your body fits to the curves of my hands. If I could attach our blood vessels so we could become each other I would. If I could attach our blood vessels in order to anchor you to the earth to this present time I would. If I could open up your body and slip inside your skin and look out your eyes and forever have my lips fused with yours I would. It makes me weep to feel the history of your flesh beneath my hands in a time of so much loss. It makes me weep to feel the movement of your flesh beneath my palms as you twist and turn over to one side to create a series of gestures to reach up around my neck to draw me nearer. All these memories will be lost in time like tears in the rain.
– David Wojnarowicz –
