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manuscripts….

 My love, hear me, know this to be true:

My skin is the poetry of your touch
Our story is sung with every moan that spills from my lips
And when you come deep inside me
my name becomes a rite of passage on your soul

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if…

Dear Gentle Sir,

When I say your name, my heart rumbles
much like a lion roars when it knows it’s right.
If only we could know the future, we might roar more.

xo

if freckles were lovely, and day was night
and measles were nice and a lie warn’t a lie
life would be delight
but things couldn’t go right
for in such a sad plight
i wouldn’t be i

if earth was heaven and now was hence
and past was present and false was true
there might be some sense
but I’d be in suspense
for on such a pretense
you wouldn’t be you.

if fear was plucky, and globes were square
and dirt was cleanly and tears were glee
things would seem fair
yet they’d all despair
for if here was there
we wouldn’t be we.

— e.e cummings —

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we sit down to sup…

I want to lie face up. Legs spread. Looking you in the eyes. I want to trace my body so that you follow my curves and mounds and perfect imperfections down to where I most need you.

Then, I want your mouth to kiss my knee caps. I want your nose and mouth to trail down from there until you come to rest right between my legs. Smell me. I am the flower of your need. I am in full bloom. My petals already glisten-smooth-silk for you.

Let me feel your tongue slide along my slot. Go on, slick me up. Whet me even more than I already am. Feel the tip of my clit, flick it with your tongue… hard. Dip in now. Feel my lips enfolding yours as you suck me in.  I don’t want your tender, tentative mouth; I want you to draw out what ails me until I am nothing but feverish moans.

I want your mouth to bury itself inside my velvet seams until my back arches and my head falls back with a gasp. I want you sloppy, greedy, ravenous. The wet on your mouth, chin, and cheeks will become the same flavour that drips from my cunt and glistens on my thighs.

(Oh, how I want to feel your swelling cock in my hands, my mouth, my everywhere right now but now… this right now? We are here. Oh, fuck, you. are. so. here.)

Slurping, swallowing, sopping and suctioning yourself to me will only make me want to fuck you hard and deep and long – so passionately that your head will spin. My gasps and deep, throaty moans may suggest I need you to stop, that I need to pause to catch my breath, but no… oh, fuck, no:

“Don’t stop. It’s perfect… oh, so perfect. Please, please don’t stop.”

In fact, this is when my soft inner thighs will grip your ears so I can buck my hips up and thrust my clit deeper into your mouth. Deeper. I want to feel my clit bloom, wrapped inside your suckling, craving tongue.

This is when I want you to look up. I want you to see what you are doing to me. I want you to watch me delirious from the pleasure you give me. I want you to feel the heat off my rosy cheeks.

I want to look down and see you there, pinned between my legs, latched on to my pussy. I want to look into your eyes as I gasp your name… my treasure, my glorious lover.

Don’t ever stop.

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a rubied sun in a venice-sail…

Every time I see you, my body wakes up.
I am alive.
Again.
Everywhere.
Walking away from you, the cool summer wind caresses
the silkiest parts of my thighs.
Echoes of your mouth, your hands, your breath on me.
I moan quietly –
my clit tingles with this need, these secrets.
The stars above us give witness.
Tremors, all.