Tagged: H.I.

Mirror, Mirror

I found myself back there again.

I found myself taking in the image I long for you to see once more, taking in the detail of the white shirt chaotically tugged open, the lace of my demi cups darkened by the peaks scarcely hidden beneath, the black pencil skirt bunched around my waist, the pull of my suspender belt gently marking my yielding flesh, the midnight nylon sheen kissing the legs raised up stiletto high.

I found myself back there again, perched on the edge of the white expanse, spreading myself shamelessly in front of the glass, easing the damp, ebony silk away from my sex, teasing the softening folds, my nipples, my breasts, caressing the bright, plump lips, the abdomen lean and fair, cupping the mons so eager, my hips sensually grinding against the hand, my body, my cunt, silently demanding their much needed release.

And as I found myself there again, as I slid in two digits and crooked to find that sweet, little spot, as I fingered and fucked, as I circled and strummed the blushing nub, as I tightened and clamped and released my glistening lust, as I relished the wanton reflection of the woman pleasuring herself, moaning so loud the neighbours would most certainly hear, I wondered just how long you’d be able to resist me if you found me just this way.

Would you resist me? Would you resist?

Would you stand in the doorway relishing the sight, unbuttoning your shirt collar, discarding your tie, grabbing then rubbing your aroused flesh through the fabric, your raspy breath the only indicator of your voyeuristic presence?

Would you move over to me, stand before me, so close your scent overwhelms my senses, so close I can feel the heat blistering off your muscular body, so close my watering mouth can almost taste you, so close I can see the first perfect drop of precum nestling in your cockhead?

Would you extend your teasing torture, liberating your throbbing shaft, your fingers delicately drawing back the foreskin, your fist sliding back and forth, back and forth, your hips gliding along with it, back and forth, back and forth, positioning your body between my open thighs, back and forth, back and forth, your glans now intermittently brushing the tender skin of breasts, back and forth, back and forth, your thumb smearing your shine along the curve of my neck replacing the fragrance of my favourite perfume?

Would you step closer still, winding your fingers through these tousled curls, your dark gaze locking on the deep blue of my eyes as you feed your thickness into my mouth, as your fingers join mine down below, as your digits transition from lace to nylon to skin hot and moist, as my tongue licks and laps, as my lips voraciously engulf, as I suck you like a woman starved and denied, as my mouth fucks your cock and your fingers fuck my cunt, our orgasms rushing headlong to meet us?

Would you torment me cruelly, deliciously with the meat most desired, running yourself along my cleft, coating your hardness in my flowing juices, circling my clitoris with your glans, your kiss finally finding mine, our lips sensually devouring through my whimpering pleas for your cock, through the ragged cries to “Fill me, fill my cunt, fill me, oh God, please, fill me, fill me, fuck me, fuck me”?

Or would you simply take what you want, what is rightfully yours, just as you did that night, wrenching open your zip, pushing me back on the bed, your suit jacket thrown off and onto the floor, my legs instinctively splaying themselves wide, your hand releasing the glans hard and eager, guiding then nudging momentarily at my need, before plunging, sinking into the depths of my velvet heat, your mouth, your kiss swallowing my mewl, your hands a vice on my hips, mine grasping for your shoulders, your back, your arse, the sound and smell of our lust overpowering the room as you fuck me with passionate abandon, as you relinquish that control, as you leave the imprint of your shaft on my most intimate flesh, as we come loud and hard, our urgent desire screaming over this skin, melting these bodies together, as I come loud and hard, my cunt milking you from within, as you come loud and hard, splashing your seed deep, deep inside me, as we come loud and hard with the reflection of our merged bodies beamed back at us in the low afternoon light?

I wondered. I wonder. Would you resist me as I sit at the mirror?

Writing Desire

Words are not enough. My words are not enough. They pale in the face of yours, in the face of you. They are small, paltry, shamefully inadequate. My mind, it can not tame them, it can not craft them; it can no longer articulate the excess, the intensity, the passion that threatens to consume, to corrupt, to craze.

All that remains, all I have left is my body. This flesh, this blood, this bundle of nerves, this collection of freckles dotted along fair skin. This body. My body. The body that writes my desire. The body that longs to speak its own language, its truth, that aches to merge its nakedness with your own, that begs for your possessing touch, that calls for your seductive kiss, that screams for your sweet invasion, that seeks to know you, know of you, about you, as it has known and written of no other.

Punch Drunk


Your face, your voice, your body; your thoughts and words and desire.


Your dark, smiling eyes, your tickling beard, your maddening, masculine scent.

You. You. You.

You dizzy my mind, ignite my flesh. You speak to them both. No, you do more than that. You whisper and sing to them; you craze and soothe them; you groan and scream at them. You seduce them and me. We are powerless, us three. We can not resist. You make us want you.

You make me want you.

You intoxicate, you possess; you make me long through the morning, through the night for the man, the lover, the beast. You make me yearn for your hard uncut meat, for your fingering touch, for your sensual kiss, for your overwhelming heat, for a taste of the first glistening pearl of your arousal, for the talk and the laughter and the silence and the being as our spent, tangled bodies recover in the low afternoon light. You make ache with a lust and a passion that drive all thoughts from my head, that strike my fair form at each and every moment, that compel my hands to sate this slick, needy flesh when you are cruelly out of reach.

You. I’m drunk on you. I’m drunk on you already. And I never want to be sober again.

Right Now…

… My sex is so soft, so plump, so intensely slick my panties are fused to my bright flesh. This is the result of thinking about you, thinking about your face, your body, imagining our mouths locked in the perfect kiss, slow and sensual, then urgent and bruising, our mingled breath already hot and ragged and shallow. Breaking away, my lips and tongue give and take and explore, brushing, dipping, licking the sweet, clean skin of your neck, travelling along its curve, moving down, down, down to your chest, to your hips, branding you as mine in their wake, my tousled curls leaving a teasing trail as I savour and consume you, my long, delicate fingers finding your throbbing hardness, grazing, tracing every ridge of your thick shaft before finally entwining the meat most desired, stroking you slowly, slowly, oh so slowly, my gaze now fixed to your desiring eyes, my thumb circling your burnished head, smearing you with the glisten I long to taste.

… My tight red knickers are deliciously constricting, hugging my hips and bottom and mound. As I sit here in the close, spring heat, I’m teasing myself over the thin cotton fabric, mapping the damp spot growing ever larger, prolonging the moment my fingers find my need as I hunger for your nakedness here in my bed, as I hunger to know every last inch of you, as I hunger for you to drink from my cup, as I hunger for your glans between these pink, sticky lips, as I hunger for you to bury yourself deep, deep inside me, my hips rocking, my pelvis grinding, our flesh melting, merging in the bliss, swallowing your groans and words of desire, our climax breaking the still of the night, your hot seed coating the walls of my velvet, my fair, lissom form your canvas to paint and create.

… My entire body burns with its fevered ache; my entire being calls out for you and you alone, its need to have you near me, next to me, inside me too great. In a very short while, I’ll move off into the bedroom, shedding the fabric along the way, fashioning a path for you to blindly follow. When I reach the white covered expanse facing the large mirror, I’ll perch myself on its very edge, spreading my creamy thighs wide, wide, wider until I see the gloss shining in the low light, until I feel my crazed passion rising up and breaking free. Then, and only then, will I fuck myself with my silicone proxy, slipping and sliding the thick shaft along my portal, circling and teasing my clitoris, before nudging it into my cunt inch by glorious inch, watching my petite form surrender to a pleasure at once too much and not enough. And as I fuck myself for you, for me, as I thrust the cock in and out, in and out of me, as I watch my body arch and buck and writhe, as I watch the lust lining my face, as I allow my mind to sink into you, as I allow my body to drown in you, as I allow you to take me over even at so far a remove, as I moan and scream and cry out my orgasm, it will be your name on these lips, it will be the name of the man I want with a softness and a violence that surprises even me.

Night and Day

You have no idea just how intensely I crave you. You have no idea how crazed and dizzying that craving. You have no idea just how I crave your mouth and its kiss, your hands and their touch, your scent and skin and heat.

Night and day.

You have no idea just how much I want to feel your overwhelming masculinity, to feel your fingers gliding over my fairness, your thick hard cock slowly filling me to the brim, to feel you moving in and out of me, to feel your seed coating my most intimate depths, painting my breasts and stomach and thighs, glossing my lips and tongue.

Night and day.

You have no idea just how I need to feel you under me, to fit my body into yours, grind myself into you, my soft, swollen sex sliding along your uncut flesh, your burnished head teasing my clitoris, my climax screaming out of me, the scorched liquid lust coating and marking and branding you as my own, our mouths urgently feeding off your bruising kiss.

Night and day.

You have no idea just how I long to surrender to you, to have you surrender to me, to have you unleash your carnality upon me, to have you shred and rip and tear the cloth covering my slight form, to have you push me into that wall, to have you take me from behind, to have you fuck me, truly possess me as no other man has ever done.

Night and day.

You have no idea how I yearn to fuck you, to make love to you, hidden away, in plain sight, alone, with others, on a bed, on the floor, in the shower, bent over your desk at work, in front of a glowing movie screen, on a fast moving train, your fingers disappearing into my hot velvet cunt as my delicate hand strokes your slick, aroused flesh.

Night and day.

You have no idea how I ache to worship you, to taste you, to devour you, leaving nothing but your bones, how I ache to hear your raspy breath, to see the desire lighting your eyes, to sink into the man who inflames my body and mind.

Night and day. Day and night. Night and day.


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.


Standing at ease against the cool of the white stucco, gaze bright, smile wicked, he is a breathtaking vision. Of bronzed nakedness, of imposing strength, of profound masculinity, of sexual audacity. Of sheer perfection.

Settling into the plush chair located in the shadowy corner, she allows herself the freedom to take in his detail, her eyes languidly travelling along the terrain of sculpted muscle and wiry curls, along the hot skin deeply kissed by the sun to the cool, milky pale of his hips and thick uncut flesh.

It is the contrast between the heat radiating from the russet glow and the freshness of irresistible cream that ultimately awakens a gnawing hunger, watering her mouth and sex in equal measure. It is the contrast that beckons her to him, that lures her semi-clad form to close the space between them, that draws her delicate hands to his tensing arms, her slender fingers to the legs tantalizingly splayed, her fiery nails to graze the line of the torso well defined, her moist, sensual lips to his raspy breath, her eager tongue to the mouth desperate for her kiss, her fair suppleness to his intoxicating potency, her slick velvet cunt to the glisten of his raging cock.

At This Very Moment

All I want right now, right at this very moment is your body, your desire, your touch.

Your intensely masculine flesh nestled firmly against me.
My rosy peaks teasing the muscular line of your back.
Your breath catching as my kiss finds the curve of your neck.
My fingers weaving through the mane of your sun-kissed chest.
Your shudder as my hand finds the glory of a hardening shaft.
My sweet, flowing arousal glistening in the low light.
Your seductive groan as I part my pink, shiny lips.
My mouth longingly reaching out for its first taste.
Your digits sensually weaving through fiery curls.
My tongue swirling and skidding across your salty passion.
Your knees weakening at the force of my devouring greed.
My fair form streaked in the cream of your pleasure.
Our desperately yearning bodies softly, savagely fusing together.

All I want right now, right at this very moment is you.