The Alchemy of Desire

123_The Alchemy of Desire

Here and now, I know not the whys or wherefores. I know little reason or this mind’s sense.

I know only with this desiring body, the alchemical connection that continues to torment, that binds me to you like addict to obsession, to the masculine potency of your flesh, that stirs me as the day is dawning, that colours the light as if the darkness about to descend, that whispers to the craving skin of my feminine sensuality, to the wild and uncontrollable, to the depths of this lustful decadence, that moans along the arch of my form, the tips of the fingers reaching out to caress, to the cunt etched with your name and dripping our passion’s indelible scent.



Trace the heart in the frame
Glide your fingers to the gift
Ease soft thighs brazenly wide
Touch your lips to my honey drip

Thoughts and Whispers

121_Thoughts and Whispers

It isn’t merely the winter that makes me shiver.

It’s the thought of your kiss light upon each inch of my fair skin, your fingers easing away the straps and lace and cashmere, your lips whispering deep the words of adoration and need, your beard grazing the tremble of my soft thighs, your mouth worshiping the sighing ache of my scarlet desire, the carnal pulse of your flesh bringing me to my knees, my tongue devouring with greed, the possession hard and glistening and profound, the gaze all-seeing, all-knowing and yet somehow arcane, the man ideal, the veiled soul, the lover whose subtleties and complexities, whose primal urgencies and lingering sensualities even now feel just like home.




Meet me in the haze, in the dreaming, the in-between, in the delicate light of dawn, in the ivory tangle of our lust-drenched sheets, in the body sensual, the fusion electric, the woman shaking beneath as you drive our hunger deep, as you plunder her dripping sex with the fire of your need, the one who craves each night and day your sweet possession, the violent rush of your creamy sin, the passion exquisite and crazed, the souls unveiled and craving together, always.

Beguiling Curiosity

119_Beguiling Curiosity

The days. The months. The years.

The lure. The intimacy. The torment.

The glimpse of this beguiling curiosity.

The moments burned deep into your flesh. The echo of that voice. The taste of the words. The mouth aching to savour the softness of that skin. The fire, that kiss. The intensity your body and soul refuse to forget. The racing heartbeat as your caress worships each line, curve and hollow. The glistening sin that flows and screams between your legs not merely from craving but also from need. The whimpers and moans as you fuck and make love and come shivering together until you fear for nothing, until you pray for sweet annihilation. The one who rushes back, who possesses your desire as the velvet darkness sets in, as the innocence of day shines bright.

The man and his inexplicable singularity. The ideal given life.

String of Passion

118_String of Passion

Come to me.

Move in.


Close enough to sense my heat, to bask in the gleam on my skin, to commit to memory my perfume, the softness of my breath, the moan released from these rouged lips as I struggle with my need, as I silently fight the urge to reach out and touch lightly your bronzed nakedness.

Near enough to have your gaze possess and scorch your mark deep into my flesh, to have your look trace the line, the curves of this body, the dim light and each accenting shadow, the pearlescent spheres wound about the slender throat your hands crave to sensually grip, the string soon to be replaced by the glistening beads of your violent passion, to have your eyes travel languorously all the way down the tautness of my belly, your flesh and desire and mind a whir as you fix on the pearls nestled into this sodden scarlet smoothness, around the throbbing bud of my purest pleasure, between the cunt lips, along the intimate place even now begging, pleading, craving your voracious mouth and tongue and dexterous fingers, your cock, your thrusts, your come deep inside my sweet tight cunt, the beautiful brutality of your invasion.

The Dreamer’s Curse

117_The Dreamer’s Curse

I curse the dreams that bring you back to me, the reverie so vivid I wake with the taste of you upon my lips, with the echo of your scent and heat and the trembling sensuality of your kiss, with the lover’s markings on my vulnerable skin, with the intimate flesh that forever calls
for our deep perfecting fusion, for your hard and thick and gleaming completion.

Between Nothing and Everything

116_Between Nothing and Everything

It was nothing more than a hiss, nothing more than the smallest of sounds, a rush of breath, the fire expelled with seductive force from between his clenched teeth and parted lips as I sighed and arched my back, rising up from the warmth of the boards barely an inch, splaying with false but steady serenity the long slender line of my legs, creamy thighs betraying only the slightest of tremors as they floated and drifted, my hips a swaying and open invitation, eager to hypnotise, mesmerise, to lure him into our frenzied and perfecting fusion.

It was nothing more than a hiss, nothing more than the smallest of sounds, and yet it was absolutely everything, the unabashed signifier of his passion, the man who had crawled his way under my skin, the need that trembled before me his once immovable frame, the craving for a taste of my sensual intimacy, the wantonness that tormented night and day his lusting body, that hardened his flesh and melted his gaze, that announced to the room and the world outside I am his, that compelled him to close the cruel space between us, that led his voracious hands to my ache, sliding up and around me, each touch another vulnerable link, his cock pressed hard, the grind of want on sodden mesh, the wetness, the flood only he can truly inspire and the lips, the lips, my lips, the lips of my honeyed cunt and glistening mouth, they betray me again, with his name and my whimper and my silent confessions, with the hiss, with my hiss, with the hiss, with our crushing kiss as he buries himself purely, sinfully, deep.

Beneath Innocence

115_Beneath Innocence

You know me, baby.

You know me better than the rest.

You know the wantonness that burns me deep, the temptress that forever lurks beneath the pink, beneath the innocence and purity of my arching curves in the broad daylight, the femme fatale that spins her web of darkness and debauchery, the seductress who brazenly parts her thighs as she guides your mouth and tongue and hard thick flesh to the need gleaming, pulsing its scarlet violence, the submissive who craves again the belt looped about her slender wrists and neck, your fist filled with the fire of her tresses, your palm gliding the leather along this sodden mess, the woman giving and taking her pleasure, our addictive sensual and carnal release, the torrent of her desire, the devouring urgency of her sweet cunt and slick kiss.



Will your body tremble, your soul shiver once your hands find me again, once your fingers glide through the fire of our spent passion, the cream of your seed on the milk of my skin?

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Welcome to my erotic exploration of femininity and feminine desire, to the words, deeds and sensual self-portraiture of an Antipodean minx.

Prepare to be tempted and tantalised...