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this wind may blow the sun in…

Dear Gentle Sir,

There is the feeling when your cock falls into the back of my throat… when it pushes its way to the very most brink of my breath.

There is the feeling as the tears well up in my eyes… when you look back at me – no, into me – and we smile.

There is the feeling of pussy petals sighing, singing, spreading to make room for you… when my hard nipples make a different kind of mark than my scratches on your back and my heated bites on your shoulder.

There is the feeling of being held under sunsets that smell like summer fires… when you kiss my forehead and in braille, your lips write “I love you.”

Sweetly Yours,

Lola Moi xo

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our minor refusals…

A man looks deep into your eyes, practicing for the day he finally sees himself as fresh, so sweet. Your hair, your skin caught up in a man’s hands is the way he kneads Grace, Hope, and Faith into the marrow of his bones. His pre-cum glistens like the giving of his deepest heart; pristine. When your velvet, thrumming pussy clenches him tight, a man’s jaw tightens, and for that instance, he is undiminished – he is fearless.

— Lola Moi —

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the other is for goodness…

Dear Gentle Sir,

There are worlds between us.

When your full head peers into the abyss of my need, my petals spread like wings. I am Pegasus to your Zeus. (Though, who is muse to whom remains a bone of contention – one I’m content to nibble on.) To see you astride me is to believe in quantum physics: how else could we be here? Together. Entwined and wide-eyed like this?

As I arch to make room for you inside me, each intake of air births a belief… in the Impossible and in the Possible. Each moan may sound our names but it’s true nature is a blessing… Given and Taken.

When two become one in the Mystery of Meeting, we become feathers bound by blessed winds flying over mountains of pleasure and valleys of discontent. Each strain, each grip, every time we reach for the other sings us into a new moment. We become this. Together.

And still, you are so beautiful.

Missing You,

Lola Moi xo

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the sound of things falling…

The smooth edges of my pussy glide up along your legs to your hips and farther still; I shift and adjust, finally resting at peace here behind you. I trust you with my weight. With the smoothest part of myself, I come to stillness atop your broad back. The oil slides. When I stroke and knead, your body winces from memories it will not speak – the details of all your hurts and joys I will likely never know.

There is a knot wrapped around one of your ribs, under your arm. I place my hand on this, this secret. My long legs straddle your width and our flesh mingles. My clit nestles. You are warm; I am grateful for your heat. With each inhale, I feel your expanse under the soft of my palm. I ease myself into this tender spot hidden under your arm, in the shadow of your bony cage.

For all our uncertainty, you allow me here – with you, in this place. I hold it dear, like a fawn who has yet to try her legs. I protect what lies under hand. This is what I do for you. And in return you close your eyes and breathe… just, breathe. This is what we are: a man and a woman, naked. We are the shadow.

And there is nothing between us. . . nothing except the hot breath of secrets.

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into the sunset…

“You’re riding me.”

This thot spills out of your mouth in breathy whisper before you can stop yourself. Though you are not alone; we are both slightly amazed at this. . . fit. My silky thighs tense. I spread and you slip in even deeper. Your hands firm. This is where we want me. You, to see me, to drink in the upward curve of my swinging tits. Me to pinch my nipples for our mirrored jaws, dropped. I want you in awe. I want your chant “Yeah, oh yeah, Fuck.”  You hold my hips in place and I buck. The last of your fullness pushes my smooth lips aside. I swell with the stretch of your cock filling me to its end. A ragged gasp falls out of me, I am over-heating. . . pulsing with need. I dig my fingers into your chest and harder, I thrust into you.

I am.
I’m riding you into the sunset.

My juice, my juice slaps us sweet to slick. Me above, you below. Breathy silence rides the wind of our rhythm, of my fwapping thighs and our soaked groins. When you thumb my clit, you push me deeper into your gaze and I break, I can’t do this. . . can’t bear the blurring of what we both want. I take. In this moment, I take your length and your beauty and our trust. I inhale with the only part of me that matters. I gorge on our giving, on our passion. I am insatiable. Right until you flip me around and take me from behind, ass up, legs entwined, I take you in. We fill this saddle and we fuck. We fuck. We fuck me hard and deep into this forbidden night. My own button pushing, pushing us both, spilling us over the edge.

I feel your lasso fingers well into the next day. Invisible, if not for this ache you’ve branded into me. Your voice the echo that tethers me to a Promise of More.  So much more.