Her eyes, heavy and desiring, chart the path of his hovering form, taking in the detail of his chocolate gaze, the mouth bruised by her kiss, the muscular torso shadowed by the dark matt of wiry curls, eventually locking on the mesmerising grind of his hips and the hardening flesh sliding between the soft, swollen lips of her dripping sex.

Closing in on her, his chest teasingly grazing rosy nipples, hands and fingers gliding over the mounds of her breasts, tracing the line of her taut stomach, possessing her creamy thighs, his heated whispers find her ear as she begins to beg and plead, her sultry whimpering ringing out in the otherwise quiet room.

Unable to hold himself back any longer, he gives in to her and to himself, one strong hand reaching down to stroke the uncut meat glossed with her arousal, the other feeding its thumb into her eager mouth, his eyes now drinking in the sight of her legs widening in readiness, the rising blush on her fair skin, the delicate fingers caressing, snaking, digging into his hips.

Parting her bright folds, his burnished head nudges momentarily at the portal before he sinks headlong, filling her with a deliberate slowness, inch by inch, spreading, stretching, satisfying the plump velvet, inch by inch, his slick cock throbbing, enveloped by her tightness, inch by inch, his thick shaft pulsing as it kisses her needy and intimate depths, inch by inch, her legs winding around the base of his back, inch by inch, her own arching off the bed, inch by inch, their hands a roaming mangle, inch by inch, inch by inch, his ragged breath now joining hers, inch by inch, inch by inch, inch by inch, until he is there, until his glans is pressed against her womb, until their bodies and skin and juices merge, until they are captive, until they are rapt, until they are one in the sweetest violation.

Into the slim silver box nestled lightly in her palm, she whispers her desire for him, breathing the heat of her need into his ear at an almost painful remove.

Delicate fingers now teasing electrified flesh, she shivers through the words, through the primal need to taste him, to devour his flesh, to tease her clitoris with his cockhead, to cover him in her scorching arousal, to open herself so wide her body might break, to feel his hard, thick cock stretch and fill and fuck her until she screams, until her nails rake his muscular back, until his pounding hips brand her creamy thighs, until their lips reach out for the fiery kiss, until their merged bodies are bathed in the passion all-consuming.

I want you
I want you too
I want to lose myself in you
Forget the hour, the day
The lands that cruelly separate
I want to dive into your body
And simply float away

There are days where words are simply not enough, days where my voice falls silent and short, where my mouth craves a unique expression of its lust, where my lips and tongue yearn to mark and inscribe with the hot liquid language of my desire.

There are days where words are simply not required, days where my skin seeks out his flesh, sweat and come, my fingers trailing the path of their want, my legs enfolding the form of their passion, my heat fusing with the lover of my dreams.

There are days where words are simply not important, days where my body calls to hear its own truth, where I long for the sounds of our grinding and thrusting, the echoes of cries guttural and soft, the music of a dance beyond measure.

And then there are days, there are nights, there are weeks, where words of the sweetest perfection live simply in his gaze, in his touch, in his kiss, in his speechless presence and breathless ardour.

Last night, it finally broke. As my dreaming steadily filled with vivid images of him, with the sights and sounds and sensations of the two of us together – talking, laughing, fucking, making love – my body released its lustful want, its aching need, its crazed frustration. Waking with a start, his kiss still lingering on my lips, I lay in bed, my flesh scorched and drenched, damp curls glued to my nape, pink shirt and knickers fused to my torso, my recovering breath barely fracturing the night’s quiet.

Peeling back the covers and stripping down, my nakedness glistened in the low light as I drifted somewhere between sleep and consciousness, between my bedroom and the one of our love making. With the cool caressing me, I ran my fingertips slowly over my skin, delicate, teasing strokes from neck to collarbone, around the mounds of my breasts, on my hardening nipples, down the curve of my stomach to the softness of my hips and thighs, just as he had done in that perfect and consuming vision.

Within moments, I sank into the plane that offered me the gift of his presence. Submerged once more in his voice, his scent, his weight, in the intensity of his closeness, my body unconsciously reached out for him, at first calling silently, then screaming, then weeping so hard the wetness rose up, shiny droplets dotting my flesh as I spread across the bed in response, arms and legs opening wide and ready, the slippery heat flowing freely from my aching sex.

Hovering over me, his phantom drank from the stream, instructing my hands, guiding my fingers to the juicy plumpness down below, to the pink that yearned for his hard thick cock, to the cunt that longed for fulfilment. Sliding my palm over my mound, gliding my fingers from the portal to my clitoris, up and down, up and down, dipping in two fingers deep, deep, deeper, soft, ragged cries filling the room, my back sensuously arching off the bed, his material form was suddenly beside me, the white expanse dipping under his masculine strength. With his lips and tongue on my mouth, tracing my neck, his breathy whispers in my ear inflamed, incited this desire, compelling me, propelling me to the edge, urging me, imploring me to finger myself for him, pleading me to finger fuck the velvet heat he longs to devour, to fuck my dripping cunt harder, harder, faster, faster, to spread my lips and tease the nub of my purest pleasure, to touch and finger and fuck myself as he would, as he has, as he will, to come, to come, loud and moaning, to come, to come, slippery fingers, plunging, pumping, thrashing, to come, to come, to come. To come for him. For him and only him. In fevered sleep, in fevered waking.

The warmth
The warmth
In his voice
In his laughter
In his kind and generous soul

The heat
The heat
In his breath
In his stroke
In the words of his desire

The burn
The burn
In our speed
In our obsession
In our climax
In our conclusion

Her gasp shatters the silence with the realisation it is her raspy voice, her desperate desire that have hardened his flesh, that have compelled him to show and record the intensity of his lust. Stroking his thick cock slowly, deliberately, silently, glimpses of his profile, his muscular arm, his creamy hip, his shiny head, tease and tempt, inciting her passion, watering her mouth and cunt in an instant.

Listening to the familiar accent speak of the yearning to press her nakedness against his, to have him feel her heated whispers in his ear, her lips on his mouth, trailing down his neck, his chest, his hips, his thighs, sliding around his throbbing shaft, her body grinds in time with his as she sinks three fingers into the velvet heat longing, aching for his touch.

But it is only once he throws his head back and murmurs to the witnessing silver box just how much he wants it too, just how much he wants her too, that her orgasm crashes over her so hard, so loud she calls out his name.

As we gradually shed the veil, as we bare ourselves through the word and glimpses of skin, as our desire collides, fuses, coincides, as our urgent, carnal passions threaten to swallow us both, as our need to merge and fuck and devour overtakes the rational mind, it is your longing to kiss me, caress me, savour me, to make love to me, soft and slow and lingering, that trembles this fair body, that sets the fevered ache, that carries my breath clear away.

He lingers in the doorway, his muscular chest rising and falling, his thick meat progressively hardening, as he drinks in the woman craved as no other, as he takes in the sensual curve of her mouth, the heady scent of her perfume, the shiver rippling through the flesh wordlessly calling out for his touch.

And as he crosses the threshold, his arms encircling her waist, his eyes gazing into the deep, their bodies finally merging as one, she exhales his name along with her heat, her yearning finding its voice, her desire finding its mate, her passion finding its home.

(click)

I woke with you on my mind, with the vision of your body hovering over me, with the urge to feel our warm nakedness entwined in the low morning light, with your heated murmurs on my neck, your wiry curls tickling my breasts, with your eyes firmly locked on mine.

I woke with you in my body, with my flesh reaching out for your all, with our aching desire igniting my skin, with our yearning to merge inflaming my form, with your slippery hardness sinking right in, your lips tracing the curve of my mouth, with your seductive moans crashing over us both.

And as I woke with you on my mind, in my body, in my thoughts and sensations sultry and sweet, I wondered if you did just the same.