Tag Archives: the temptation between my legs

we walk a fine line…

Without meaning to,
he’s disarmed me,
with kisses that soothe
and alarm me.
In arms that terrify
and calm me.

we walk a fine line

— Lang Leav —

SinfulSunday

you are so much…

you are so muchL
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that it is breaking my heart.

L

do what you have to do…

do what you have to do

Just fuck me, already.

just fuck me already

the heat is on…

The fireplace crackles.
My cheeks are rosy-red warm.
I’ve already cum once tonite.

http://thesexytime.tumblr.com/post/21587990004

What do you have to say for yourself?

follow your bliss…

follow your blissL
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The moon is full
And so am I
With you.

i pray you, tell…

If I said, “Yes. Oh, God, please. Yes…”
and spread my velvety thighs before you, what might happen?
Where might you start?
When might we end?

i pray you, tell
Please.

it’s been days…

My clit has been thick with longing for you. I walk to the store, panties soaked with how you please me. Driven to distraction – to my bed, seeking relief. Release. I say your name into the mattress. Can you hear me?

Somehow, days pass and time does not take its toll – what was, is still now, and we lie breathless in one another’s arms. I need to taste you again. I need to hear you moan. To say “yes” in your ear. To watch you cum… so very hard for me.

It’s when you look at me writhing under the force of your careful touch, your sweet caress, your plunging curiosity that I reach for you. You make me smile. Blush. I bite my lip – it’s that, or your shoulder. Our tongues trace each gasp of surprise. Where did you come from? My beautiful, sweet lover. Where did you go?

My body trembles still, knowing the way you watch me – so present in my pleasure, so intent on piquing my need. Your certainty parts my legs and your mouth so generously sucks, laps, strokes, and presses my thrumming, wet clit. The parting of my folds and spreading of my holes become our serenade. Your perfect cock, a beautiful rod of deeper truths.

To feel my hand in yours is to discover adoration. To look at you is to read words newly born. Yes. To give witness to your permission is to buck and arch and reach and spill over into soak. Our meeting is a universe of secrets stored in towers of honeycomb. Each breath, another chance.

— Lola Moi —

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