Need

Standing there, I see him gradually being overtaken by it. I can see it, feel it, crawling through his flesh, rising up to his skin. I can smell it coming off his body.

Suddenly against me, he tries to explain. This is what he has become, he whispers closely, fingertips grazing my neck. This is what he has become against his will, against the reasoning part of his mind. There is nothing but the hunger, the desire, the need.

It is a need, he says gently leaning me into the wall with his overwhelming frame. It is a need and not a want or a wish or a whim that might be pushed down or away. It cannot, will not, be replaced or displaced.

It will not leave him, it will not leave him be. The need transforms, changes, alters beyond all recognition, his mouth murmurs, the tempting weight of his body pressed firmly into mine. As evidentiary proof he places my hand on his rapidly beating chest, carefully guiding it down his stomach to the growing swell below. Pulsing through the fabric prison, he is, at once, hunter and prey, willing victim and rebellious target, give and take.

And how he wants to give and take, he tells me, thumb tracing over my moist and parted lips. Give and take, take and give, now easing my willing legs apart with his own. Take, take, take, his tongue exploring me, consuming me. Give, give, give, grinding his hips slowly, rhythmically.

I need to feel, he breathes hoarsely, my small breasts engulfed by inquisitive hands. Running his generous hardness along my aching sex, he shows me the need to feel the flesh and heat of another.

Softness and wetness urge him on as his hands coil round my creamy thighs to cup a plump and eager mons. My softness, my wetness are his needs. I oblige on both counts as his fingers lightly dance along the sheen and gracefully work their way in.

I need to feel and smell and taste you with everything I am. Breathing hard, our pleasure winding, building, I set him free. Fingers circle his swollen glistening head before my hand works his throbbing length. Urgent teeth rip through foil, his rigid cock swiftly encased in a shiny rubber sheath.

As we stand there against the wall, pressed into each other, needing more, needing it all, I finally break. Now breathing, spoken, embodied, it overpowers me. It reaches out of me, for me. For him. I need you, I need you, I need you inside me, it makes me beg, plead, moan.

Hungrily, I slide my juices along his erect shaft placing him at my slick entry. Greedily, he feeds his thickness into my tight wet cunt as we groan simultaneously.

But before we begin, before we begin moving, thrusting, slapping, fucking, moaning, gasping, grunting, screaming, before we ravenously paw at each other’s flesh forcing in more, more, more, before I demand he fucks me harder, harder, fuck me harder, before we can barely hold ourselves back waiting to hear the sweet cries of come for me, come for me, come all over me, come inside me, before we call out to one another when we finally break, before the voracious beginning and the sated end, we stand perfectly silent and still.

We stand joined together against the wall clutching, throbbing, vibrating, seeing each other, seeing into each other, breathing in one another, breathing as one, skin on skin, skin becoming skin. We stand joined together in a primal, awakening rush.

We stand merged together finally understanding the force of this need. And at this moment it is the only thing that truly matters.

Feast

The table has been laid for a different form of dining. One lone setting has been placed at the head of the long table where he sits awaiting her arrival in the room’s warm glow.

She announces her presence with the glide of the door over the plush rug. He breathes in sharply as his gaze roams over her fair form. On this night she is dressed in little else than an ivory lace balconette bra and matching lace topped stockings.

Upon her in a matter of a few strides, eyes bright and hungry, he scoops her up and walks her over to the table, delicately placing her naked bottom onto a red velvet cushion. Weaving one hand through her locks while the other sweeps along her curves to the small of her back, he overwhelms her eager mouth with his passionate kiss.

Taking his place, he lays her out and begins to trace lazy circles inside her thighs. Edging closer to fully receive the sweet scent, his lips lightly brush her plump sex. Unable to resist any longer, he dots the slick excited flesh with a series of soft butterfly kisses as a throaty moan emerges from deep within her slight body.

Smiling wickedly in the knowledge this is the first of many courses, he lowers his greedy mouth and luxuriates in the pure indulgence of her creamy feast.

Unrealised

Time shifts, space bends, sound drains away. Suspended in slow motion, their each step an open possibility.

Shameless lust, unconcealed desire. Fixed, dilated stares, small, flirtatious smiles. Brazenly undressing one another as they brush by.

Horn blares, moment shattered. Lost in an instant, both swallowed up by the city crowd.

Songbird

Bundled in his arms as the light faded low, he sang to me. Softly, sensuously.

Soon after he sang into me, breathing the lyrics into my skin, humming the tune into my flesh, as his lips trailed down, down, down my fair body.

Stroke

Grasping her ankles, he pulls her toward him at the foot of the bed. He opens her wide, positioning each leg on the periphery and runs his hands insistently along their length.

Arms wound tightly round her hips and bottom, he plunges himself into her wetness in one deliciously selfish stroke.

Music Man

As he growls then whispers the lyrics, she marvels how he could so accurately read the life of a woman a world away from his own.

Smiling through her tears she doubts if any other man will ever be able to do the same from up close.

Cut

It came as something of a surprise after his tender, sensual kiss, his tongue tracing the outline of my mouth before languidly devouring me. I stood swaying, eyes shut, body tingling, begging for more, as he broke away and momentarily left the room.

Finally opening my eyes I saw him standing before me, blade in hand, a wry smile playing on his lips. Breath quickening, nipples erect, a new surge flooded my already blushing cunt.

Stepping forward he raised a finger to his lips silencing my unspoken words. Running the handle carefully down my cheek, neck and collarbone, he pulled me in to kiss him once more.

Poised at the top of my dress, the light reflected off the cutting edge. Closing my eyes, I surrendered to the darkness and the exquisite sounds of destruction.

Stitch by stitch, tear by tear, a destruction that would leave me bare, open and ready to bend to his will.

Words about Words

They weave a very particular spell, those words of his. Quite unlike any others, they wind themselves into and through my body. Sliding, slithering, caressing, tickling. Ablaze, my body becomes pure sensation. Hungry, yearning, open. Ready. Willing.

With each passing word, each passing day, I find myself wanting. Wanting more. Wanting to be her. Wanting to be the woman who inspires his force, his passion, his reflections.

I know I am not alone. I know there are countless others communing with the page, consuming in the light, devouring in the dark, desirous of the very same.

So I sit and read and yearn and ache while feeling the words. Feeling up his words as if a body laid bare for the taking.

And when I am sated I wonder if my words will ever have that effect. On him.

I live and hope and dream.

Bloodline

We are bound together, the women of my tree and me, bound by blood and time and history. Bound by the sacrifices, the struggles, the pleasures, the moments of love and hate and lust and longing, which have made up our everyday lives.

I like to think of them around me, surrounding me, looking down on me – on us – looking down on the lives of the women of their blood.

So many have been lost, their names and connections long forgotten, their histories slowly erased from family tales overtaken by the narratives of their men. The only traces left behind are the women of this time and place, both a world away from their own.

While it pains me that I do not know them, will never know of them, I take comfort from having them within me.

Their lives have led me to this time, this body, this woman I am today.

Lucky Charm

Dressed in his best suit, he walks out into the living room tugging at the shirt collar.

“It’s too small.”

“It’s not,” I reassure him.

He grimaces. Even though he’s trying to remain composed I know his nervousness is overtaking him. Just as he’s about to run his fingers through his wavy hair he stops short. He fidgets and paces. I begin to worry he’ll wear a track right through the new rug.

“Are you wearing something red?”

“Huh? … What? … No. I don’t have anything in red… Where are you going?”

I walk calmly toward the bedroom having thought of the very thing that will do. As I rummage through drawers and begin to ready myself I hear him resume his pacing and mumbling.

Just as I turn to exit the bedroom I notice him in the doorway. My curls are now around my shoulders, lips newly rouged and silk robe open to reveal naked flesh save the tiniest of black mess knickers.

“Come here. You need something for luck.”

He looks as if he might protest but then decides to obey. Now up against me I run my hands down the front of his shirt brushing his sex very gently with my own. I sink slowly to my knees and press my nose in to breathe him in. As I unbuckle the black leather belt and unzip his trousers he weaves his hands through my hair.

“I don’t have time for this…,” he trails off unconvincingly.

I smile up at him knowing full well he won’t be on the receiving end of the expected. He reads my smile as something else all together.

I nuzzle into him again, this time inhaling the full extent of his musk. My mouth begins to water at the sight of his growing hardness but I remind myself I’m on a different mission.

As I pull down the right side of his black trunks exposing his hip he gasps in a way that makes me smile again. I trace his outline with my nose and cheek looking up at him once more. Head back, lids hooded, hips forward, ready to be taken. My fingers dance over his soft skin enjoying the tease.

And then I kiss him. One deep solitary kiss from my slightly trembling scarlet lips. One perfect red charm that marks him with luck.

One kiss to remind him, when the day is done, I’m here ready and waiting.

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