tantric transformation…

A mature person has the integrity to be alone. And when a mature person gives love, he gives without any strings attached to it: he simply gives. And when a mature person gives love, he feels grateful that you have accepted his love, not vice versa. He does not expect you to be thankful for it – no, not at all, he does not even need your thanks. He thanks you for accepting his love.

And when two mature persons are in love, one of the greatest paradoxes of life happens, one of the most beautiful phenomena: they are together and yet tremendously alone; they are together so much so that they are almost one. But their oneness does not destroy their individuality, in fact, it enhances it: they become more individual.

Two mature persons in love help each other to become more free. There is no politics involved, no diplomacy, no effort to dominate. How can you dominate the person you love? Just think over it. Domination is a sort of hatred, anger, enmity. How can you think of dominating a person you love? You would love to see the person totally free, independent; you will give him more individuality.

That’s why I call it the greatest paradox: they are together so much so that they are almost one, but still in that oneness they are individuals. Their individualities are not effaced – they have become more enhanced. The other has enriched them as far as their freedom is concerned.

Immature people falling in love destroy each others’ freedom, create a bondage, make a prison. Mature persons in love help each other to be free; they help each other to destroy all sorts of bondages. And when love flows with freedom there is beauty. When love flows with dependence there is ugliness.

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Rising in love means a learning, a changing, a maturity. Rising in love ultimately helps you to become grown-up. And two grown-up persons don’t quarrel; they try to understand, they try to solve any problem. Anybody who rises in love never falls from it, because rising is your effort, and the love that is grown through your effort is within your hands. But falling in love is not your effort.”

—Osho—

forty two (or, ice cream and candles), part 2…

“I want to make a mess for you.”

Another long, deep, ravenous kiss inside the doorway.

“Would you like that?”

You blush in reply and push me up against the door, just pressing your body’s full length and width against mine. Of course I moan. Fuck, just feeling your weight against me makes me moan so deeply, I feel my clit vibrate that sends a shiver down to another moan.

“I’m going to cum for you, ok?”

You don’t reply but you don’t have to; your smile gives you away—it’s that secret smile you make when you’re at a loss for words. When the power of what you desire from me overwhelms you. I mean, there are only so many yes’ one man can say.

The dark night has locked us away in a breathy silence.

“Do you trust me?”

You nod. I kiss your neck gently as I tie the soft blindfold over your eyes. It’s quiet for a time. You can hear me moving about the room. I want all your senses attuned to me. Soon, we will be moving as one.

I return to you and begin to undress myself slowly. I want you to hear my nakedness unfold. I want you to picture me. Oh, fuck, how I want you to anticipate me. My smells bloom beneath you. I contemplate leaving my panties on, just so you can take them off me… but now, I don’t want anything between us. As they softly drop to the ground, you catch a whiff of my holy wet. Your cock jumps with recognition.

I then slowly remove your clothes. You are surprisingly unselfconscious; you are focused on the air between our bare skin. You can feel brief moments of shared heat. You gasp anytime we almost touch. When you are finally naked, I pause. You know I am looking at you, taking my time, drinking in every inch of your tall and wonderful body. I sigh. I am so turned on, standing naked like this with you.

“Oh my fuck, you are so beautiful.”

I don’t know who moans first and really, it doesn’t matter. What matters, is tasting you. I gently trace your lips with my tongue and you just barely feel the rounded edges of my air-cooled nipples as they lightly slide along your hot chest. You clench your fists; you’re not ready to fully touch or hold me. We both want to extend this delicious dance of Almost.

You feel me circling you. Each pause is different, there is no recognizable tempo to my greed and curiosity; I just want you in your entirety and I plan to take my time. I begin inhaling you and breathing into you. Then, lightly tracing you with lips, fingertips, nipples, hips, thighs, back and various other body bits… until finally, my palms and fingers hold, caress, press, grip, squeeze, and pull. In tandem, my mouth kisses, suckles, and then sucks. Your breath pitches into moans of basest pleasure.

“Do you want me to stop?”

Your moan is guttural. You nearly rip off the blindfold and fuck me right there on the carpet. You know you could, too. Without even looking, you know that my clit is thick and swollen, that my pussy folds are hot with shining juice and totally fucking swollen with impatience.

“Because I don’t want to stop.”
“Moan.”
“But I do want you harder.”
“Fuck.”
“Mmhm, that, too.”

I am everywhere now, even between your legs—both your hanging balls slip into my mouth, your ass crack is slick from my tongue, and your toes and ankles tingle from my sucks and kisses. I swoop in at random times just to lick the pre-cum off your hot, shiny-with-taut, pulsing cock.

But still you don’t touch me. If you try, I gingerly step away. Your moans become a mixture of joy and frustration… of ache and longing… of need, of need, of—

“Do you want me?”

Your knees buckle a bit. You hear unmistakable desire in the huskiness of my voice. Your mouth waters with your own lust.

“Take it off—the blindfold. Please… I can’t wait any longer…”

There I am on the sofa in front of you, on my tummy, grinding my clit down on my fist, just the way I like it. Exposed. Vulnerable. I have no idea how sexy I am to you in this moment. Looking at you with my brows furrowed, my jaw slackens as each exhale gently rolls into cascading moans. You take a step towards me—

“No.”

You stop in your tracks. My  moan weaves through my words,

“You… your… cock. Show. me.”

It is all the permission you need. One hand cups your balls and presses down on that secret pleasure spot—the same one my mouth sucked on a short time ago—while your other hand grips and glides up and down your beautifulfuckingthrobbing shaft. I moan, adjust myself so I can pick up speed.

“Tell me,”

I beg,

“Tell me how much you want me.”

You moan your gorgeous moan.

“Show me—your cock—gasp—please—OH—(moan)—show.me.show.me”

You are heating up.

“Fuck—”

We both pick up speed.

“Show me how much you want to fuck me—”

Your eyes dart between my face and the intoxicating rhythm of my gyrating hips.  My arm muscles flex as I push up against my clit, trying to find my grip despite the slick—the slick you can hear now, louder and louder in echo to our moans. When I ask you again, more urgently,

“Tell me.”

Your voice catches at first; all you can do is nod, and then,

“Yes!”

I beg,

“Please—”

I start to buck up and down on the couch. The springs give my eagerness away. You cry out.

“Fuuuck!”

Again, I beg,

“Yes? YES?!!”

When you reply,

“OHhhh, FUCK, YES,”

I release myself and turn to face you—ass up—my cunt a wet invitation… a smooth, thick, luscious backdoor offer.

“MOOOOAN!!!!”

With great force, you grab my hips, and plunge your meaty pole inside me. My arms outstretched, anchoring myself against the back of the sofa and cushions. I’m not tempering my cries and moans of pleasure in the least.

pound.
pound.
pound.

You love how I push back into you, arching my back, doing anything I can to get you as deep as fucking possible into me.

I shift my weight to my left leg and turning slightly towards you, we position my right leg up over your shoulder. You plunge even deeper than before. Your top hand grabs my tit and squeezes. My nipples are at your mercy.

This makes me wild. You make me wild. I meet your thrusts with my own. My right hand reaches for your face but my body is wracked with such force and pleasure, all it can do is sway with our fuck-rhythm. My other arm continues to brace us against the back of the sofa.

This angle is perfect: you can watch yourself slide in and out, my pussy lips slurp on your thick rod. You can watch my tits swing and enjoy how my cheeks flush each time you dive into me. I’m also watching you take us—all this—in; I feel amazing being with you like this. Watching your pleasure is almost as good as the pleasure you’re giving me. Your jaw tenses with effort and I am overcome with a need to stroke it, to hold your beautiful face.

“Come, make me cum.”

I lie down on the couch and try to pull you on top of me but instead, you stay at the end of the couch, push my legs up by my ears. As you do, you kiss the length of my right leg, pausing to suckle my toes. I suddenly feel shy by this but I give in to your delight, I give into your courage to be with me like this, I give into what pleases you: you pause with a little gasp as my left foot traces your bobbing cock, up your chest, and I offer my other foot. You look me in the eye as you lick and suck on both my feet and toes. Your eyes darken the way they do when you finally give into the wild abandon of your needs. Seeing you like this inspires a deep moan from the back of my throat.

You are already driving me more than a little crazy. I squeeze my tits as I anchor my legs against you. You spread me wider as you dive down with your mouth. I gasp, unable to breathe; your warm mouth feels so fucking good. Your hands begin to work in unison with your lips, tongue, and teeth; I can’t tell what’s dipping, what’s pressing, probing, pinching, circling or sucking… my ass, cunt, and clit are your playground. My hands pull your hair, tug at your ears—they guide you as much as follow; we linger where we must. You prefer the spots that make me cry out—the spots where I instinctively grind my cunt into your sweet face.

You come up for air and I lift my hips with you; I don’t want you to stop. But you want to see the effect of your handiwork. We are both drenched in sweat. My big brown eyes are shiny and wide. My mouth is open, panting. I am Moaning. I am fucking moaning your name over and over; you have become my prayer. You smile, proud.

“You like that, hey?”

I barely nod before you slide up along my body, placing my long, lean legs on either side of your head. You kiss me like lovers who love… this alchemy of skin.

I am folded under you. Your weight stokes my fire and I hold your face, finally. I kiss you again. I look you in the eyes as the weight of each thrust and pound drives your point home:

“Cum, Lola! Cum for me.”

I can feel it like a distant wave, I can feel it cresting in a kind of mini-orgasm and I know if you stop, I’ll never find it again, and I’ll never cum like I know I can when I’m with you.

“Don’t stop. PLEASE. Don’t.stop.”

You’re surprised.

“Are you—?”

But I need you to keep pace with me,

“Yesyesooohyesdon’tstopdon’t stop!”

Our tempo changes, you shift us into a higher gear. Sweat runs down your back.

“Cum! Cum!”

I feel the surge deep between my legs, like electricity through my back. You feel so fucking amazing. All I can do is repeat over and over to the beat of each pump,

“I’m so close, I’m so close, I’m so close—”

You’re just as inspired. Our passion has liberated you.

“For me! Cum for me!”

We are one breath, foreheads together, mouths mirroring the other. Moans cascade, tumbling out between gasps and cries that crest and crescendo. I can’t help it. I can’t stop it. I don’t want to.

“So close, so close, soo—”

You drill me so deep you can feel my stomach. I love. every. moment. You whip me into frenzy. My eyes widen, my jaw falls open, my fingers clench the cushions beneath us. You can see how close to the precipice I am.

“That’s it! CUM! Cum for me!”

Suddenly, I can feel it—I am going to spill and spill and spill all over you, all over this couch. The force of my cum begins to peak and you see my flicker of doubt. I know it’s going to be huge—

“Make a mess! I want it, all of it. I want you to—”

I want you to cum with me but I am dumb; there are no words left for me, only wave upon wave of surging, arching, squirting orgasm.

“YES! Give it to me, all over me, please, Lola, YES!”

I can’t hold it back, even if I wanted to. Our bodies convulse. I gush in all directions; my squirt is a tsunami of release. We cry out as your cum fills me and spills out along the crease of my thighs, down the crack of my ass.

We hold tightly to one another even as we’re lost in the other’s arms. We are a glorious mess. I can feel and smell you everywhere and in this moment, I can think of nothing better.

Slowly, we catch our breath. I unfold my legs. You pull me on top of you as we still the racing of our hearts. My head rests on your broad chest and I listen to your heartbeats slow to a steady pulse. As you trace a mindless pattern on my back, you quietly say,

“Wow.”

I smile, lifting my head in response. My breath catches a little when I look at you. You are fully here with me, radiant and whole. Your freedom is infinite. My eyes tear up. I am smitten by the power of your masculine beauty. You move a strand of hair off my sweaty, rosy cheek. Tenderly, you place it behind my ear.

“You are so beautiful, Lola… Just, wow.”

This time, it’s me that blushes.

even in silence…

It’s a complicated thing, wanting you. Loving you in this way. Inviting you to accept my desire and pleasure and need as equal to yours… as equally tempting, sexy, beautiful, and powerful. “Is this alright?” No. Stop. There is no doubt: you are my lover, the one I can’t get enough of. The one whose smile makes my pussy swell. The one I want touching me, tasting me, licking and suckling me, testing and tempting me… fucking me into oblivion.
.
.
.

Your cum begins just as mine peaks. Our lips meld, shaped wide in the mirrored “O” of our orgasm. Your cries vibrate along my jaw and the force of your final release makes me weep. This is all you needed—for me to lose myself like this in your arms. Your cock fills then pulses and pulses and pulses as I squirt all over you. My mess is merciless. My fingers dig into your strong body as I push into you—begging you to pulse inside me one more time. Our foreheads together, we kiss… breathy, slow, sensuously.

I wrap my tongue around yours and you briefly suck on my upper lip before gently pulling tendrils of hair off my face. The power of your tenderness—before and now—inspires yet another moan from me. Your hand cups my face so you can look at me. My eyes are bright as I return your gaze. Your knees buckle in this weird slow motion way when you see how true I see you. When you see where our secrets took us—what permission they unlocked. When you see how much I loved being with you just now. When I let you take your time drinking my disheveled body in… gleaming with our sweat and cum.

You gently kiss me in all the places you missed before; you smooch and nuzzle against me until my breath settles. My hand leisurely traces your hair, your ears, and jaw, your shoulder and limbs and lips. When you rest your head on my hip and wrap your arms around me suddenly and squeeze, I’m surprised to see how much you’ve given me of yourself.  My smile: my trust. You know then, without asking, that I want to do this again with you… in all the different ways we can think of and those we can only feel. I want to taste your freedom again when it’s like this—naked.

song of myself…

I celebrate myself, and sing myself

And what I assume you shall assume,
For every belonging to me as good belongs to you…

 

Stop this day and night with me and you shall possess
the origin of all poetry
You shall possess the good of the earth and sun,
(there are millions of suns left)
You shall no longer take things at second or third hand,
nor look through the eyes of the dead,
nor feed on the spectres in books,
You shall not look through my eyes either, nor take things from me,
You shall listen to all sides and filter them from yourself.

— Walt Whitman —

fearless, breathless…

I become the tremor that you ignite. “Do you like that?” your hungry voice whispers in my ear. Your hands taut between my legs, two fingers knuckled deep inside my softest wet. I tremble and you bend your fingers, pressing them into my g-spot. I buck and leave my hips high off the bed. “That’s it. Feel my fingers so fucking deep, fucking you.” You rub harder inside me. I bite your shoulder and moan as my hips drop and swivel and rotate around your thick wrist. “Yeah? You want more?”

My answer is the sopping slap of my wet. “Fuck, you’re wet, so fucking wet!” I push and press harder into your hand, my left hand gripping the headboard above my head as I cry out with a throaty moan of wild pleasure. You bite your lip and set your jaw as you heed my call.

I want this fuck so badly. I want to feel you in every hole I have. I want to cum a thousand times in your hands, on your cock, in your mouth, on your face… everywhere. Fuck.

Our foreheads together, I reach between us to fire up my clit. I gasp. “Oh… play with yourself. I love that. Fuuuck! Yeah, play with yourself for me!” My moans become animal sounds as my fingers douse themselves in my cunt-juice. Your cock bobs against my leg in rhythm to our hot moans. When I grip your shaft, I cry out loud; it is about to burst, it is so full – so fucking gorgeous. My grip is confident as I spin and jerk and tug and squeeze. My nipples harden from hearing your harsh breath, your groaning, and mumblings that sound slightly like begging.

“Cum for me…” I whisper this time into your mouth as it gasps for air. Your eyelashes flutter as my coaxing registers. “Cum. Make a delicious cum for me. Me. Me. Me.” You look down at me and I smile with bright eyes.

Suddenly, you lift me and flip me around like I weigh nothing and now, you’re beneath me. Your strength surprises me. Your urgency heats me like never before. I don’t slip you in, though.

“Ride,” you say.

I slide along your utterly fuckable cock, my wet hand beneath, my swollen pussy on top, sandwiching you between.

“Cum for me,” I say louder.

I press down and your head lifts off the pillow, jaw slack; I think you might just cum.

“You first,” you barely gasp. “You, please… let me watch you first.”

I slide along your shaft faster and without missing a beat, you are inside me. I tip my hips back so that I have the traction to push you as deep inside as you can be. And then I buck against you, hard. Our skin slaps and my thigh muscles tense. You grab my tits and squeeze. My head falls back and I almost tumble off, it feels so incredible to have you this way.

My mess of hair falls around my face. Our eyes meet and I watch you as I ride you, between the veil of my hair and the sheen of our exertion. My hips flick against yofearless, breathlessu. I worry I might be hurting you but you’re holding me down now at my hips. My pumping is low against your body, my clit burrows into your stomach and again, I reach down and play its swan song for you.

“Ohhh, yeah… your clit. Play for me. Play! Cum! I want you to cum!” We are both nearly in tears, it feels so fucking good. My cries shift their pitch and I need to brace myself against your chest. My legs are tired but I can feel the crest of the pain that is pleasure, rising like a tsunami in me.

You see it in my eyes, too.

“YES! Come on, fucking cum. Lola, I WANT YOU TO CUM. Pleeeeeaase…!”

And then the lights change colour from inside me; my body tenses and I flood the bed. I am the biggest mess spilling, spilling, soaking you and the bed. You watch my juice squirt out from between our bodies, and cum with a matching roar as my hot cum (and more) gushes down around your hips and over your balls. I grip your chest as you fill me and as I empty simultaneously.

Our chests heave and I fall against you… slick and reeking of hot, hard sex.

“I’m afraid I made a mess.”
“I think maybe you did,” you say with a smile. “I love it, fuck, I love it. It’s so hot. You’re so fucking beautiful when you cum like that,” you whisper.

I kiss you. I kiss you. So sweet, my sweet, I kiss you.