carry the sky on your back…
I had to change my panties today when I arrived home; I’d been thinking about you. Trying not to think about you made it worse and the warm, secret-gush of my pussy juice had soaked
through. Even now, after changing into fresh lace, I can smell the lingering aroma that’s dried on my fingertips along with a knuckle.
And I think about your mouth, your whiskers pressed deeply against the silky folds of my cunt. Your nose pressed against my trimmed mound. I inhale deeply and as I walk to the sink, I think about you: when you latch on and suck
and suck
and suck…
until light.
the best preparation…
You don’t need to be inspired to write a poem.
You need to reach down and touch the thing
that’s boiling inside of you
and make it somehow useful.
— Audre Lorde —
first words…
It may be my own hands that tease and please and soak me through tonite but it’s your love-gestures that swoop down through my random recollections.
Jaw clenc
hing with pleasure/
your steely thickness of gorgeous, urgent need pulsing against my soft skin,/
how your eyes train on every whimper of my pleasure/
my mouth full with tasting you/
and your sweetest of cum-sighs…
All that you are when you have given yourself to me – the way you are with me – slips out with each gasp of my throaty cum. My toes curl and my long legs tense … I am so wet. so hot. so raw with wanting you.
And then, I smell us on me.
And you are here with me, again… as you should be.
hot days…
Summer heat has suddenly arrived
and
yes, I am as warm, soft, and…… as the photo suggests.
everyday epiphanies…
