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never too much…

(an inexhaustible list)

Your name, slipping like warm honey from my lips.
Your facial hair rubbing against my smooth thighs.
Bending over for you.
Your hot, warm mouth on me.
Reaching for you.
My legs spreading for you.
Lifting my hips, my ass, my whatever-you-want for you.
Our moans.
Eating me out.
Our eyes meeting in deepest heat.
Sucking you off.
The grip of my cunt walls before I cum for you.
Your pleasure.
Your fingers.
My please and thank yous.
Your beautiful, bobbing, throbbing thick for me.
My fuck-juice slick on my swollen lips.
The give and take of our pleasure.
My wet
All my fuck-wet for you.

All of it.

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here, in the everyday…

I watch a hummingbird hover outside my window.
I sip tea.

I sit on benches, overlooking pristine nature scenes I cannot even fathom the making-of.

I finger myself and the crisp sound of linens crinkling as I spread my legs makes me gasp your name.

 

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stretched…

I love feeling your throbbing little pussy gripping my cock so fucking tight while your body twitches and spasms as I bring you to your breaking point.. Holding you there! Keeping you there! As a prisoner in your own euphoria… Behave and reap the...
Pin me to my pleasure.
Keep me here, on the brink.
Each tremble, every quiver and spasm is your making.
I love this.
Don’t let me go; don’t stop.
I need you to please me like this again.
Watch me, trapped beneath you,
Lost in my body’s hot, swollen, wet euphoria.

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wide awake, on tiptoe…

They are patient and wise, these barely-feminine hands of mine. They seek. They know truth before I do – this is the scent they follow.

I cup your beautiful face. My hands guide me as words get lost in your eyes, in the thick lump that forms in my throat. As I trace, my fingers taste you, your fear, your need and your hunger. Along your jaw, over your lips, around your ears, sliding down and around your neck.

Something about your skin cradled against mine heats me – my cheeks, the nape of my neck, my soft soft cunt-folds.  My caress guides us both to a resting place – a place beyond, sourced from a breath-like tremble.

I have been told that my hands are intoxicating but only when touching you, do I sense some of what that might mean. I’m almost afraid to touch you more – to learn you are less than you trust me to hold.

Already I feel the full force of being seen by one who will not fully choose me and in that same breath, I defy the shadow of all we cannot be.

wide awake, on tiptoe