Even as I am etched in black and white, even as I am drawn in the tones of their in-between, my passion for you transcends this monochrome frame, it is every colour, tint and shade either of us can conceive, it is every gradation of light and shadow, it is the inky darkness of a carnality which tears at my flesh and shreds my soul, it is the ashen green of jealousy, this barely contained envy of the women fortunate enough to drown in the hot rains of your lustful fury, it is the bronze of your skin kissed by the sun, the burnish of your glans hard and dripping in mouth, on tongue, it is your chocolate gaze, it is my azure look as you drive yourself to my clutching limit, it is the pinkness of my cunt, hungry, rapacious, the cream of my thighs bound tight about your waist, the scarlet of the heart bleeding its loving ache, it is the kaleidoscope, the splinters, the shards blinding, arresting as these fingers seek skin, as they spread open the lips, as I fuck myself, as I give in, as I surrender to the wanting, to the imagining, to you here in this room, reaching, reaching for me through time and space and improbability, through the impossible, through the unthinkable pleasure of this body, this offering, the pleasure that takes me to breath’s end, that takes me to the brink and back again, that brings you to me, that delivers me to you, that devours everything, all hue.
Tell me what you want. Tell me what you want from me. Tell me what you really want from me.
Don’t run. Don’t hide. Tell me.
Whisper into me everything you want to say, everything you need to say, everything you think you shouldn’t say.
Groan into me the thoughts that swell your cock; the desires that haunt you in the night, the cravings soft and brutal that scream to your hungering soul, the cravings you long to exact on my sweet and supple form.
Growl into me the passions smouldering, seething in your core, the bitter jealousy that taunts you from near and from afar, your darkness, your intensity, your overwhelmingly lascivious greed, the need driving us to desire’s primal edge.
Tell me what you want. Tell me what you want from me. Tell me; whisper, growl and groan for me.
Tell me, lover. Tell me, tell me, tell me…
In bed and in the pink and missing you, aching for you to reach out to me, to trace this shy and veiled cleft, to glide your hands between the softness of my thighs, to have your fingers ease away the drenched cotton, to have you part the plump lips of my sex, to have you slide your thick hard glans deep inside me, to have you lose yourself, submerge yourself, to have you drown in my heat, to have you know me and the slick and pulsing epicentre of my desire.
How can it be your carnal masculinity turns me on my head so easily? How can it be the anticipation of your touch leaves me shivering, aching wet? How can it be the yearning for your flesh compels these legs to rise up to heaven’s edge? How can it be the desire for your body to slide along, between, inside this velvet heat reduces me to a whimpering mess? How can it be, lover? How can it be? How can it be the thought of you shatters this woman so absolutely?
There’s been barely a moment where my thoughts haven’t drifted to you, to the thought of us soiling my crisp and pristine sheets with our passion, to the thought of our bodies pressed together under the shower’s cooling rain, my hands exploring while yours do the same, my slender fingers teasing the silken softness of your newly spent glans, registering your excitement, the rush, the beat, the pulsation, your aroused sex growing thick, hard and heavy in my palm once again, stroking your shaft slowly, slowly, slowly, my thumb circling your cockhead slick with your glisten and the drops, my delicate fingers caressing the small of your back, working their way to the sensitive spot at its base that invariably buckles your knees and reduces your voice to a growl, my kiss finding your nipples, your collarbone, your neck, your lips, my hands reaching out beyond the weighty glass doors to retrieve the luxuriant towelling, my hands blotting, sensually soaking up the gleaming beads clinging close, my lips and tongue drinking, following the path of the cloth, my lips and tongue eager to taste you, to have you aching and pounding, to have your cock insistent for the heat of my sweet little mouth, to have you come with a shudder, with a roar on my freshly washed lily-white skin.
But at this very moment, in the here and the now, all I want, all I truly crave is your naked cock buried deep, buried so deep inside me all I can do is breathe, all I can do is clutch at your shoulders, my legs around your waist like a vice, my back and my hips arching up to meet you, to take your every morsel into my glistening sex, this glistening succulence, this smooth, scarlet cunt which aches to be filled, which cries to be fucked, which aches to wrap itself around you, to bear the mark of your unique flesh.
I want it, need it, hunger for you so desperately, I’m throbbing wet merely typing the words…
I care little for your ruin. In fact, it’s the very thing I want to secure.
I want to spend, devour and break you. I want to feast on your flesh, leaving nothing for another. I want to strip away every vestige of your self-control.
I want to stroke your shaft, feel the weight of your thickening and hardening glans, your flesh throbbing, insistent, incessant, my thumb smearing the first pearl of precum across your burnished head, my soft mouth following suit to envelope you, savour you, suck you until I feel the first surge of your seed glossing my lips, my tongue.
I want to entwine my fingers around your naked cock, part the plump lips of my sex and feed you into my sodden cunt with an aching slowness that will leave you begging for swiftness, pleading for the knowledge of my pulsing depths.
I want to fuck you with a languid sensuality, with fire and anger and urgency, my lithe body arching above you as I feel your come erupting violently inside me, coating the velvet of my cunt with its slickness, as I clutch at you, milking every last precious drop, as I orgasm over and again hotly over your cock.
I want to kiss your mouth, inhale your breath, swallow your groan, my whispered name, your wanton words.
I want to leave you a shivering mess.
But more than this, I want – need – your crazed passion, the intensity of your lust to rise up, to scream though your skin, to exact its own revenge upon me, to tear my desire for you to shreds, to crush me by the same pitiless means, annihilating this hunger, this craving for good.
Do you recall the sound of my pleasure, my breath and my voice as I come? Do you remember the way I exhale your name as I tease my clitoris, as I finger my cunt? Do you recollect the ragged whispers, the moans, my half-spoken pleas, as your hands take hold of my hips, as you drive your burnished glans into my depths, as your kiss finds my lips, as you fuck me, possess me with a sweet savagery that leaves me captivated, addicted, obsessed?
Do you remember? Do you recall?
They were the very sounds that filled this room as I touched myself and thought of you, as time stopped and space closed itself in, as my body arched off the chair, as my orgasm crashed over me, as the air was overwhelmed with the scent of sex and the cry of my passion, as my want and desire and need for you clawed through the pretence, crawled up through my core, rose up through this flesh, returning to haunt me, to taunt this woman once again.
You’ve marked my mind, my body with insanity, this heart, this desire with uncertainty, the night once my comfort now the enemy, the shadows taking on your spectral form to haunt me, your phantom a reminder of revelations urged from deep within, the myopic passion you inspire so easily, the moments I laid bare my simplicity, complexity, this woman adrift in the sensory deep.
I feel it in my trembling flesh and coursing blood, in the core of these very bones, in the sheen prickling my skin, in those parts of my body that do not possess the powers of speech, in those places within me that commune with the shadows, with the dangerous darkness at my feet.
I feel it. I feel it now.
I feel it with a force that stops me dead in my tracks, that presses me hard against this chill, that leaves me clutching and shielding, desperate to bare myself to your gaze, to your kiss, to the nuance of your touch, to the man and his strength, to the perfection of your flesh.
I feel it. I feel it now.
I feel this desire for you, this desire to know you, to know you absolutely, to know you in the process of being, to know you with a completeness that leaves us drunk and consumed and careening out of control, plunging into the depths of our unique and mutual yearnings.
I feel it. I feel it now.
I feel it all just as I feel you here with me, just as I feel the urgent and sensual passions that fuel your need, that pique your mind and excite your body, that taunt you as you mingle in the crowd, as you move through your day, as you immerse yourself in those rare moments of solitude, as you stroke your nakedness imagining my hands and lips, my trailing locks upon your skin, as you coax your shaft to thicken and harden, as you rouse the lover, the beast within, as you bring me close, as you draw me near, as you press my breast into your thudding heartbeat, as you lure my aching cunt to your cock, as we meet and fuse and fuck and make love, as we whisper and moan and release, as we close our eyes, as we sink into the night, our bodies together and free.