our hands…

I want you to make love to me.  I want to hold you, feel our fingers entwined.  I want to squeeze your strong hands while I cum.  I want you to feel the beautiful power you are within me. 

long hair…

long hair swishing on bare skin
feels like a poem
that’d make you blush
an exhale that pulses
invites
dimpled skin to rise and greet
the heat of a dawning thought
a promise
a sway of hips readying themselves
a curtain parting
a look over the shoulder
(without ever looking)
hand
tongue
eyes
languorous
being watched
wanted
feather-soft need
my back
my neck
goosebumps and nipples
satin thighs
in the middle of the bed
being held
offering everything
like
a promise
in other words
erotic
joy-filled
in the way
desire
beauty
love
can be

– by Lola Moi –

long hair

turn your back…

You must turn your back on me if:

  • you want a woman who does not moan and cry out.
  • you want a woman who does not get wet looking at you with your clothes on.
  • you want a woman who does not scream and buck and scratch her hunger.
  • you want a woman who is afraid to look you in the eye when you bury your cock/ tongue/ fingers deep inside her.
  • you want a woman who won’t tell you what feels good… what she wants.
  • you only want the missionary position.
  • you want a woman whose clit is not attached to her g-spot and vocal cords.
  • you want a woman who shies away from your tongue, teeth, and strong hands toying with her nipples.

You must focus your mind elsewhere if:

  • you do not want it sweet and loving.
  • you want a woman who does not want to please you.
  • you do not want to please a woman you adore.
  • you want a woman who does not know how to suck and fuck the best cums right out of you.
  • you do not want to share fantasies.
  • you do not know how to say “yes.”
  • you are afraid of feeling infinitely sexy when a woman wants you… all of you.
  • you have no hunger for intellectual and sexual exploration.
  • you don’t want a woman to dance for you.
  • you want a woman who hates romance and mystery.

You must let your heart turn cold if:

  • you want a false, fickle, judgmental friend in bed with you.
  • you do not want to give it hard and deep.
  • you don’t want to suckle and fuck and coo with lovemaking all night long.
  • you don’t want a woman to suck the cum out of you.
  • you want a woman to hide her body, her desires, her fears.
  • you don’t want to cuddle and kiss and hold hands.

You must turn your back on me if you believe there is a limit to sharing pleasure and all the things that make us moan.

her lessons…

So she thoroughly taught him…

that one cannot take pleasure without giving pleasure, and that every gesture, every caress, every touch, every glance, every last bit of the body has its secret, which brings happiness to the person who knows how to wake it. She taught him that after a celebration of love the lovers should not part without admiring each other, without being conquered or having conquered, so that neither is bleak or glutted or has the bad feeling of being used or misused.

― Hermann Hesse 


all the pretty things…

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.

don’t ask…

Please: Don’t ask me to wait. Don’t ask me to think things through. Don’t ask me if I want to. Don’t ask me if I’ve had enough. Don’t ask me to suppress my hunger. Don’t ask me to be a good girl.  Please. Don’t ask me, just don’t.