Tagged: Lingerie

For His Eyes Only

She shields herself, concealing from view the succulence owned and possessed by him, the naked and molten epicentre of the desire that exists for his eyes only.

As she poses and revels in the display of her scantily-clad form to the unseen eyes beyond the picture window, the wetness flows white-hot as she recalls an altogether different image – the photograph created for his carnal and bespoke tastes of her rear encased in the same diaphanous mesh, the suspender straps draw tight, their lines the ideal frame for the sweet cunt sodden with wanton need for the grip of his hands, the power of his thrusts, the seed buried deep by his thick hard perfecting flesh.

Forbidden Hungers

I meet the dawn tearing at the threads, the need to expose my wanton flesh to the low light too great, to the walls that have borne witness to our carnality, your marks lustrous on my skin, your seed and my lust the fire on the lips between these legs, our forbidden hungers screaming again through my veins.

True Intentions

When your gaze finds me, travels along my naked and yielding body, the flesh arched and aching and hungry only for you, what does it see?

What do you see?

Do you see a woman worthy of the lips that speak your true intentions?

A being in step with the intensity of your complex passion?

Do you glimpse in her the free spirit also in need of your arms and their embrace, the skin and heat that feel and taste just like home?

A body, a soul, a mind, a heart, a sweet and wanton cunt deserving of your sensual kiss, your ragged breath, the cock, the thrusts, the grip, the molten come that will mark her indelibly as yours?

Summer’s Love Child

I have always been more than simply woman.

I am – and forever will be – a creature born in the last throes, at the close of days, weeks, months of blistering fire and overwhelming heat.

I am summer’s love child.

With the flavour of the sun in my flesh, with the dawn and dusk indelibly etched on my skin, with its wanton passion, its sensual caress in the curve of my hip, in the breath between my lips, with its sultry nights and lustful promises deep in my bones, flowing through my veins.

Think

Think of my cock, deep, pulsing nakedly, marking you.”

Do you know or even sense that I can think of little else?

Can you feel the way my body aches at the mere suggestion of your naked flesh, nothing between us, the promise of our fusion, the primal hunger for your seed filling my cunt, dripping from my womb, streaked hotly across my lips and tongue and blushing skin?

Do you know or even sense how I crave you and this possession as no other?

Can you see the need that wrenches me from the peace of my sleep and dreaming, forcing me to prematurely greet the day, spreading my thighs, arching my back, leading my hands to impatiently and crudely tug at the satins, the silks, the laces, my bare need exposed, my luscious sex gaping, desperate for the completing thrust of your hard, thick cock?

Do you know or even sense that this one thought, these nine words, have overtaken my erotic imagination and yearning so absolutely?

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