not a dream, a memory…
Dear Gentle Sir,
We met again in my dream last night. (It’s been some time.) Pressed tightly together, wrapped safely in your arms, we kissed. Your lips and tongue caressed mine with a passion so sweet I wanted to cry.
I realized long after waking, while walking with tender thots of you, that our dream-kiss was an echo, a memory of where we once were together: a first time of a certain kind that awakened a hunger in me I have yet to satisfy.
Beautiful man, sweetest of lovers, you make me sigh.
Dreaming Awake,
Lola xo
the jealous man lives in hell…
I let you see my deep pleasure.
The blush rises in both our cheeks.
Our jaws clench with each
heaving breast of plunging heat
and sweet release.
but thunder…
Close your eyes. Remember this moment:
My mouth lingering on your skin.
My hands lightly tracing you – pausing to hold you.
My tongue licking the water off of you as it trails down your body.
My smooth, wet skin settled warm against yours.
Your breath heavy; an echo to mine.
Notice how this creates a symphony
of “yes” in your mind.
and “more.”
and “don’t stop, oh, God, don’t.”
Open your eyes. Notice how this symphony plays on.
and then my soul said…
… there you are,
I’ve been looking for you.
— pleasefindthis —
god, rest here, merry gentleman…
a guide to being born…
enter the sky…
to which we are attached…
Dear Gentle Sir,
There are things I remember on nights like this when the moon is full and wind blows off the crashing waves of a lake.
There was the way it felt to walk hand-in-hand, your tall shoulder shadowing mine. Our smiles, silent backdrop to the tinkling summer leaves around us. The grit of sand underfoot, wrapped around my sighs just like your strong arms once held me.
The kiss that stopped us both. The hands that peeled our clothes. The legs that gripped you as you lifted and carried me. The bed that creaked under the weight of our anticipation.
The smooth edges of your groaning cock. The weight of your chest and hips. The wet roaming of our tongues. The bucking of our moans. The spreading of my legs and bending of my back. The fucking of our fingers and mouths and more… so much.
The way it felt to look into your eyes and want more. The way it felt to see my desire mirrored. The way you moaned and reached… for me, for your cock, for me… again. The spontaneous shifts and spreadings and splitting aparts to deeper wet, to heat beyond either of our wildest dreams.
To want you. To see you. To fuck you. To squirt for you. To cum with you. To find in you, reciprocal delight.
There are things I remember on nights like this when the moon is full and wind blows off the crashing waves of a lake. Mostly, I remember magic and minor miracles… puffs of Goodness. Mostly, I remember you.
Longingly Yours,
Lola Moi xo
careful what you wish for…
If you find a woman
with a wild heart
do not try to tame her.
You must adore her
recklessly, the way
she is meant to be loved.
Do not try to quiet her,
for her roars will reach
far and wide.
She has something
important to say.
Help her say it.
Do not get in her way.
She stops for no one.
Do not try to change
the path she has chosen.
Learn also to love the wind
and let it change you.
— C.B. Wild-Hearted Woman —