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dilettante…

Dear Gentle Sir,

There is a man who believes I pine for him. This couldn’t be farther from the truth: this is one of many stories he tells himself to make himself feel better – his hollow attempt to right the wrongs he’s convinced himself are mine.

I am not thinking of what was never there with him when my tongue swirls around your balls, making them swing, inspiring delirious pleasure. I am too busy bucking up against you as you drill that beautiful, thick, pulsating cock into me.

I am relying on our moans and my taut nipples and your strong hands and our bodies – straining with pleasure –  to keep us here: now, right where we are, fucking and free.

Deeply Yours,

Lola xo

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is it something i said…

is it something i said
Every First is full with each Last.

The first time you traced my body with hungry hands over slippery cloth, I discovered a depthless passion. Your first touch on my nipples, made me wet for years. The first time the head of your gorgeous cock barely parted my swollen, panting lips, I heard the rush of your moan and I never wanted to rebuild that dam.

The first time you picked me up and placed me on the bed, I was lost for wanting all of you in every way. The first time you reached for my hand, I found myself. Your first cum with me made me cry; you were so beautiful. And you remain so. Even in the shadow.

I am what I am. Soft and wanting more of you. This need is not lip service; it is the broken dam, the swinging branch that holds the brass ring, the gasp of falling falling falling, the sweet smell of my wet soaking me, awaiting you.

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scylla and charybdis…

To grip your beautiful hard in my hand is to lick the bottom of an ice cream cone filled with my most favourite flavour. Ever. To watch your head fall back as my fingers disappear between my silky smooth folds is to feel my heart fall soft and free into my throat with each peaking roller coaster dive. To moan our pleasure in unison is to wake to the smell of fresh brewed coffee and bacon on the grill; it is home.  To return your reach and hold you is to dream a dream I once lived.
For a moment.