Making love with you
is like drinking sea water.
The more I drink
the thirstier I become,
until nothing can slake my thirst
but to drink the entire sea.
— Kenneth Rexroth —
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
to hope does not mean to expect…
we ran as if to meet the moon…
nine minutes…
. . . that’s all I need.
into the sunset…
“You’re riding me.”
This thot spills out of your mouth in breathy whisper before you can stop yourself. Though you are not alone; we are both slightly amazed at this. . . fit. My silky thighs tense. I spread and you slip in even deeper. Your hands firm. This is where we want me. You, to see me, to drink in the upward curve of my swinging tits. Me to pinch my nipples for our mirrored jaws, dropped. I want you in awe. I want your chant “Yeah, oh yeah, Fuck.” You hold my hips in place and I buck. The last of your fullness pushes my smooth lips aside. I swell with the stretch of your cock filling me to its end. A ragged gasp falls out of me, I am over-heating. . . pulsing with need. I dig my fingers into your chest and harder, I thrust into you.
I am.
I’m riding you into the sunset.
My juice, my juice slaps us sweet to slick. Me above, you below. Breathy silence rides the wind of our rhythm, of my fwapping thighs and our soaked groins. When you thumb my clit, you push me deeper into your gaze and I break, I can’t do this. . . can’t bear the blurring of what we both want. I take. In this moment, I take your length and your beauty and our trust. I inhale with the only part of me that matters. I gorge on our giving, on our passion. I am insatiable. Right until you flip me around and take me from behind, ass up, legs entwined, I take you in. We fill this saddle and we fuck. We fuck. We fuck me hard and deep into this forbidden night. My own button pushing, pushing us both, spilling us over the edge.
I feel your lasso fingers well into the next day. Invisible, if not for this ache you’ve branded into me. Your voice the echo that tethers me to a Promise of More. So much more.