Secret Thots for a Very Private Gentleman
tales, temptation, and titillation…
I am on my back
—waiting to be spread wide apart—
waiting for you to die with the sense of you
—the pleasure of you—
the sensuousness of you touching the sensuousness of me
—all my body—
all of me is waiting for you to touch
the center of me with the center of you.
—Georgia O’Keefe—
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.
Dear Gentle Sir,
The first time I saw you naked, I wanted to climb you with a compulsion monkeys must have when they see a tall, glorious tree. I wanted to taste you in mango-sweet ways as one must suck and lick and test and devour divine succulence.
The first time I touched your barest of skin, I gasped.
I hope you always remember this fact.
The first time I saw you naked, I was already wet; every fold between my legs had been begging me to spread – they wanted you to hear how lovely your name sounds springing forth from inside me. I was already saying “yes” to every dream you had.
The first time you touched me, I lost my breath.
I hope you never forget this fact.
Yours from the Beginning,
Lola Moi xo
I return to you. My breath catches to see you there, framed by the doorway, ensconced in wedgewood and velvet. Oh, my: so unspeakably gorgeous, you.
You watch me as I walk towards you. The piano man does his thing. Again, I wonder at this meeting we have found, amazed anew: why in the world are you here… with me? Your expression is unreadable – so serious – so intent on me; I’m gripped with a sudden fear at what I cannot see and in it, the looming dark blinds me; I prepare to lose.
Then, ivory keys shimmy through me. The light returns and I don’t care who notices me dancing for you or how goofalicious it is. Your sweet smile seduces me once more. This. This is the peace I have learned to trust.
These are the things I will remember. These are the thoughts I am not brave enough to speak.
I look into your intense, soulful eyes. The room disappears and time stills; it is just you and me. Yet again, they transport me for seconds that feel like the gentlest of forevers. I am both full and empty. My chest aches with colours I only feel… words I wish I could paint.
Us: I whisper our names with my soul.
Us: looking at one another, trying not to give ourselves away…
Not for the first time, I breathe you in. To be with you like this changes me. Again, I am revealed… awakened to this creature I have never been: one who can fully take care of myself, and yet who enjoys allowing you to take care of me, anyway.
It is nothing short of revolution, this revelation.
I caress your strong hand and hold your finger.
I follow you into the night.
It is not as dark as we were led to believe.
… your hand moving hair out of my eyes.
… your mouth kissing me deep, and then deeper.
… your eyes tracing my shy curves.
… your jaw tightening as I writhe in delicious agony.
… the sound my skin makes on the sheets as I spread my legs wider for you.
… the way my nipples push against innocent material.
… the sway of my hips as I walk towards you.
… the way I cover my mouth as I belly laugh.
… drinking your smell in when I hug you.
… your finger dancing with my tongue.
… my big brown eyes looking up at you, seeing you.
… my dimples.
… our blush.
… watching your cock dance.
… your broad back under my fingertips.
… your first moan of many.
… our hands clasped tight.
… our legs entwined.
… looking deep into your eyes.
… my mouth opening to take you in.
… my hands reaching for you.
… laughing with you.
… your fingers slipping between my folds, looking for my wet.
… my smell that lingers after you hold me.
… your voice in my ear.
… tracing you down to your waist.
…. washing every inch of you.
… our breath holding when your beautiful hard first touches me.
… laying beside you and caressing your chest.
… hearing you say “yes.”
I turn to see you and there goes my breath.
L
L
Wine comes in at the mouth
And love comes in at the eye;
That’s all we shall know for truth
Before we grow old and die.
I lift the glass to my mouth,
I look at you, and I sigh.
— W.B. Yeats —