Tag Archives: moaning his name

the neighbours are watching…


Someone has to dip into something more comfortable…







hear me roar…

hear me roar
Your name is a roar
deep in the pit of my need.



I straddle you, naked. I am far from perfect but what I am is soft. Unbelievably smooth. You’re reminded of this as you feel my inner thighs rest on the outside of yours. As your hand caresses the side of my hip and traces down, gentle in its casual admiration. You stretch yourself out for me and my hands trace your chest, your shoulders, and lift your hands to my mouth. I kiss you. First your fingers. I place your hands on my breasts, under so you can feel their giddy roundness, the subtle weight that small, perky breasts offer. I kiss your hands that give me such pleasure, luxuriating in your length.

My other hand gently circles again and again around your head – the glistening pre-cum giving me all the lube I need. I take my time with you. I take my time discovering you anew. Mewing my approval so much so that you wish I had tied you up so that you could truly give yourself over to me. My appetite for you is boundless. We both want you to watch me do exactly what I want with your body. Your cock bobs its magical dance to the sound of my voice, transforming my radiant wish into… something more.

“I want you to moan.”

And before the surprise in your exhale has time to rest, my cunt is there, paused just above your face. You think you are the only one who feels helplessness; you don’t realize how distracting your mouth is for me every moment of every day we are apart. My head falls back, anticipating you, us. I can feel your hot breath between my legs.

And you feel it too – you smell my juice – just reading that.
Don’t you?
The moan that just slipped from the back of your throat?
It’s mine.
I claim it for my clit.

I rest my weight on your face. Finally. My back arches in response—in delicate, luxurious echo.

Again, the moan that just slipped out, it is mine—along with all the ones that follow. I bite my lip, I want you so fucking bad. Right now, your claim is the fuck juice between my legs and the tremble in my hands (as I type and) as I hold your head and lift your beautiful face even deeper inside me. My sigh is every pleasure for you unveiled.

There is nothing hidden right now, especially not with the weight I give your mouth as you split me wide and unblushingly suckle, slurp, and seize my folds between your tongue and lips and teeth (so fucking clever, you). And I can’t help myself; I can’t stop grinding every millimeter of my sopping, silken pussy onto your mouth.

My ragged breaths inspire you. I’m riding your face now, sliding up and down, sideways and around, everything you’re doing is so fucking perfect. From between the slick of our sounds, your voice is a growl:

“I want you to moan.”

And the moan that just vibrated out of me now, is yours. Please, claim it for your cum. You must. For the throbbing, bobbing cock begging for release as you read these words and for my swollen, velvet pussy lips that threaten to squirt all over you.

left to my own devices…

left to my own devices

and all I can think about is you.


wake up call…

Here I lie, warm under my covers
and yet, my  nipples are so hard. . .

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 —


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