You fill me with words I cannot say.
Spilling over, I bite my tongue
And tremble.
far beyond yourself…
L
drink from this, my well of jubilation
seep into the crevice where stories blossom
triumphant
glorious
fearless
lead me to the water’s edge
see me as a vision
see me as i am
a woman
a man
a heart beating strong
a massive jumble of a puzzle
lost and found
drink from this, my well of silent suffering
seep into the crevice where laments thrive
searing
formidable
cleansing
my hand cups the truth
covers my mouth
and still you sing to me from tomorrow
i will meet you there
i will not falter
nor hide
there is no shame
in who or what has been
i will meet you
there
across a chasm i cannot fathom
i will meet you there
there
i will be
L
– Lola Moi –
the affliction of wanting to be good at something…
under pressure…
The doors of the metro open and close, open and close.
Sitting there, looking into the vacant eyes of overworked suits, food-fused stollers, and academic neglect, your spine shivers. Not from cold, though with each waft of air something certainly stirs within you. This day, you cannot align yourself with the abundance of barely-beating hearts. Despite your own years of wear and tear, she has gifted you, down to each nerve, with life.
The doors of the metro open and close, open and close.
Thoughts of her sustain you. You can smell her everywhere. You rest your head on the window, close your eyes, and with the everyday gestures of a man, you secretly sniff your collar, the cuff of your jacket, the palm of your hand, your finger… tips. She is still there. Your breath catches with heated reminiscence. There is room for more inside. There is this. This pressure she is… is intense. Your cock tingles and aches to splurge.
The doors of the metro open and close, open and close.
The train carries you closer to her even when you’ve just left, the long ride redolent of each delicious moan you’ve shared. Her soft mounds and curves await you behind closed doors; she is always open for you. She’s not the first who would do anything for you but she is waiting, she is always waiting, has always been waiting and your balls roil with anticipation, your suckable, full cock tips its head and quickens at the thot. No, you cannot commiserate with the dearth of listless grey lives around you. She has claimed you and you are forever changed.
The doors of the metro open and close, open and close.
Open and close.
Open.
Close.
Open…
L
– Lola Moi –
hooked…
what it once was…
song for the mo(u)rning…
A
A
A
That early light burns most clear
and I am its brink
My song the breaking point…
as you wish…
You tie me up, tenderly but firmly; first my wrists then my ankles. We do not speak. The lights are dim, my curves and your contours dance with candlelit shadows. I watch you and you are beautiful: the muscles in your torso and arms bunch and lengthen as you prepare me. I am calm. I trust you. We want to be here together. Alone.
You are gentle yet insistent.
My hips buck the air, seeking out your hunger.
You exhaust your tongue and jaw muscles from eating me out.
My nails want to scratch your back each time I cry out.
You use up the batteries in my vibrator.
My pussy juices up your hands, your forearms, your chest, your face, and glorious cock.
You dip your fingers in as deep as they can go and ask me if I want more.
My head thrashes, my limbs strain to spread wider for you.
You give yourself permission.
My pussy throbs for days from the pounding you give me.
You please me simply because you love pleasing me.
My arms finally free, you lie breathless in my arms.
You tell me there’s no other place you’d rather be
and in that moment
I believe you.
the art of kissing…
Every lover is a glutton. He wants everything that is part of his sweetheart, everything. He doesn’t want to miss a single iota of her “million-pleasured joys” as Keats once wrote of them. That is why, when kissing, there should be as many contacts, bodily contacts, as is possible.
Snuggle up closely together. Feel the warm touch of each other’s bodies. Be so close that the rise and fall of each other’s bosoms is felt by one another.
Get next to each other.
And, this same thing applies to the mouth in kissing. Don’t be afraid to kiss with more than your lips. After your lips have been glued together for some time, open them slightly. Then put the tip of your tongue out so that you can feel the smooth surface of your kissee’s teeth.
This will be a signal for her to respond in kind. If she is wholly in accord with you, if she is, truly, your real love-mate, then you will notice that she, too, has opened her lips slightly and that, soon, her teeth will be parted. Then, if she is all that she should be, she should project the tip of her tongue so that it meets with the tip of yours.
Heaven will be in that union!
Lava will run through your veins instead of blood. Your breath will come in short gasps. There will rise up in you an overpowering, overwhelming surge of emotion such as you have never before experienced. If you are a man, you will clutch the shoulders of your loved one and sense a shudder course through you that makes you pant. If you are a woman, and being kissed, you will feel a strange languor passing through your limbs, your entire body.
A shudder will go through you. You will moan in the delicious transports of love. And, in all probabilities, you will go faint because the blood in your veins will be rushing furiously into your entire system and away from your head.
Thus, you will be unable to think any longer. You will only be able to feel, to feel the most exquisite of pleasures that it has been your lot to feel.
– Hugh Morris –
two words…
