Category: Longing

Thoughts and Whispers

121_Thoughts and WhispersIt 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.

To Have, To Hold

113_To Have, To HoldTo have you here, lover. To hold your ache between my lips. The lightness of your being etched deep into my sensual flesh. The intensity that stirs your soul, a sheen upon this skin. The gaze that reveals it all to me, that veils you once more in mystery. The kiss that maps the bright, its home these silken hollows. The utterance that guards the dark, the wanton shadows craved.


98_VulnerabilityDesire. This desire. My desire.

At this very moment, it is a burden, a cruel and vampiric drain that depletes all strength, all rationality, leaving me delicate and weak, inking my skin with impatience, marking the woman before you with an aching vulnerability, the nexus of her mind and soul and body nothing more than a raw and open wound of want, of need, of a craving so deep she is mended, reborn within your darkness and danger, within your protective embrace, your heated whispers and knowing caress, the passionate kisses devouring her surrender, the peaks of her breasts, the bare slickness of her sex, the sweet tears of release staining the blush high on her cheek.

The Morning After

91_The Morning AfterYou live in the sigh, in this body’s rapturous arc, in the yearning buried deep in my bones, in the flutter, in the rush, in the softness of this skin and the dripping violence between my legs, in the gleam that prickles this flesh each time your voice comes flooding back, in the night before as I open this woman to these primal desires, as I drench and tangle and knot the sheets on my bed, in the morning after when I invariably hunger, when these lips long to know, long to know you, long to dress you in scarlet smudges, in teasing caresses, in long deep passionate kisses.


90_(Dis)RobeBaby… Come… Come back… Come back to me… There’s no need to deliberate… There’s little need to speak… Bathe yourself in this brand new day… Cleanse your nakedness in its radiance… Immerse yourself in the here and now… As you once again hold and know my body… As you once again fill your lungs with desire’s heady scent… As you once again surrender completely… As you once again allow yourself to disrobe your passions and shed your aching skin… As you once again crave the fusion of our hot sweet ragged breath… As you once again hunger for the woman before you and the merging of our souls and this flesh…

The Missing

87_The MissingI miss you.

And the way things used to be.

And the way we were together.

And the fire – our fire – that would threaten to annihilate us both, sparked by the simplest word, the briefest gaze, the smallest sigh, the mere brush of bodies and fingers and trembling lips.

And the instant I felt you, felt you inside me, felt you deep in my flesh and my bones, felt you and your gaze and your weight and your voice as new and unknown and yet just like home.

And that moment, that one perfect moment where time stood still and the distance between us contracted and you genuinely craved my warmth, my truth, where we laid each other bare, stripped away the fear, the hesitation, all pretence, where we confessed it all with intimacy and absolution, where we revealed like never before, where we merged with lust and sin and tenderness, where we stood on the precipice, on the brink of something real, something more.

And the freedom of this desire – this desire for you – the freedom to feel it, to speak it, to live it and breathe it, to fuck it, to kiss and touch and devour each other until we moan and clutch and scream and come, until our bodies tremble in exhausted bliss, until they silently beg again for the glistening heat, to fuck you, to fuck it and fuck it up so absolutely you will dress me in your angry silence and cold resentment and I will shed big hot furious tears, to fuck it up, to tear us apart, to piece the shreds back together again with passion, with lightness, with careful words softly spoken, with easy steps and a gentle caress, with gestures verging on affection, on love.