Secret Thots for a Very Private Gentleman
tales, temptation, and titillation…
When I look at you this way, it’s because I want it.
When I touch you this way, it’s because I’m sure.
When I kiss you this way, it’s because we fit.
When I moan this way, I don’t want you to stop. Ever.
When I cum this way, it’s because I’m just warming up.
When I am this way, it’s because of you.
… and I’m losing control.
Oh, kiss me
beneath the milky twilight
Lead me
out on the moonlit floor
Lift your open hand
Strike up the band and make the fireflies dance
Silver moon sparkling
So kiss me
– Sixpence None The Richer, “Kiss Me” –
I dress for myself, this is true. But this is also true: when I dress, I dress for you. I shop for pretty things, for lacy, racy things that cinch and clip and caress and cup. No need to make more of who I am, I just need enough to heighten, present, and showcase all that I love about me, all that is yours to love, and all that I have to give.
This pretty, lacy, racy me hides beneath the every day of cottons and coats – the every day me that everyone else gets to see.
Truth? When I slip into my skirt and tank, my jeans and sweaters, shorts… and when I buy my next dress, I’ll picture you looking back at me; I’ll clothe myself in a naive hope that you will be tempted by what the mirror shows. My dream is that you will be haunted and breathless, knowing what awaits you every day here, under the layers of me.
And as you settle back to watch me peel off each bit of cotton down to each lacy, racy layer, until there is nothing between us, then I will settle at your feet and spread and beg and arch and yes, buck with each strain and grip along your back, your ass, and arms; your neck and hands held tight in my gentle but oh, so needy hands… every inch of your flesh suckled and nibbled – gripped hard and sweet pink by my hungry mouth… this self-same mouth that pants and whispers and moans and groans and howls all the pretty things you want to hear.
hello darlin’
I love the feeling I get when you get what you want.
I want you to put my legs over your shoulders.
I want to fuck outside.
I want you to seduce me just by hand contact alone.
I want you to suck on my feet while you fuck me.
I want you to write poetry for me.
I want you to finger fuck me hard until I squirt.
I want you to buy me lingerie and then watch me slowly undress.
I want you to read to me.
I want you to wrap your hands tight in my hair.
I want you to wake me with kisses.
I want to wash you with my bare hands.
I want to watch us in the mirror.
I want you breathless.
“He wanted to fuck her loudly on a hard bed with rain beating on the windows.”
– Don De Lillo –
Dear Gentle Sir,
If I were your skin, I would be Bliss.
If I were your hands, I would never dress.
If I were your heart, I would give you exactly what you wanted… needed.
If I were your eyes, I wouldn’t take me off you.
To be your diaphram would be a breathtaking adventure.
And only Truth would fall from your mouth, if I were your tongue.
Your brain, could it comprehend the magnitude of my desire for you
would be confused to understand all this
curiosity
admiration
acceptance
I have for your flawed perfection.
If you were me, you would know joy
every time I looked at you
and heard your voice
or watched you walk
witnessing you being who you are in this world.
If you were my cunt, you would
swellandthrumandachewithdrip
Just like I am now
wantinglongingrememberingthinking of you.
Yes, you, gentle sir.
Always,
Lola Moi xo