Category: Autoportrait

Trigger

A word. A breath. An intonation.

A similarity so slight most would barely rate it a thought or mention.

But for this woman, every hint, every likeness, every resemblance is a trigger, a spark, an enabler that leads me back to the voice unforgotten, to the accented utterance of my name by the man kneeling at my feet, his mouth pressed into the molten fire of my cunt, each ravenous flicker and devouring kiss driving my desire and body and the pleas falling from these lips to the edge, the brink, our precipice.

True Intentions

When your gaze finds me, travels along my naked and yielding body, the flesh arched and aching and hungry only for you, what does it see?

What do you see?

Do you see a woman worthy of the lips that speak your true intentions?

A being in step with the intensity of your complex passion?

Do you glimpse in her the free spirit also in need of your arms and their embrace, the skin and heat that feel and taste just like home?

A body, a soul, a mind, a heart, a sweet and wanton cunt deserving of your sensual kiss, your ragged breath, the cock, the thrusts, the grip, the molten come that will mark her indelibly as yours?

Division

Even as your hands rest on the triangle of light kissing the indentation at my waist, I wonder…

Would they hunger for the woman reflected, divided, yearning, out of reach?

Would they crave the riven being before you, the intensity, the duality, the sensual and the carnal, the appetites and their satiation, brought together as one by your passion and your touch?

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