The days. The months. The years.

The lure. The intimacy. The torment.

The glimpse of this beguiling curiosity.

The moments burned deep into your flesh. The echo of that voice. The taste of the words. The mouth aching to savour the softness of that skin. The fire, that kiss. The intensity your body and soul refuse to forget. The racing heartbeat as your caress worships each line, curve and hollow. The glistening sin that flows and screams between your legs not merely from craving but also from need. The whimpers and moans as you fuck and make love and come shivering together until you fear for nothing, until you pray for sweet annihilation. The one who rushes back, who possesses your desire as the velvet darkness sets in, as the innocence of day shines bright.

The man and his inexplicable singularity. The ideal given life.

I curse the dreams that bring you back to me, the reverie so vivid I wake with the taste of you upon my
lips, with the echo of your scent and heat and the trembling sensuality of your kiss, with the lover’s
markings on my vulnerable skin, with the intimate flesh that forever calls for our deep
perfecting fusion, for your hard and thick and gleaming completion.

It was nothing more than a hiss, nothing more than the smallest of sounds, a rush of breath, the fire expelled with seductive force from between his clenched teeth and parted lips as I sighed and arched my back, rising up from the warmth of the boards barely an inch, splaying with false but steady serenity the long slender line of my legs, creamy thighs betraying only the slightest of tremors as they floated and drifted, my hips a swaying and open invitation, eager to hypnotise, mesmerise, to lure him into our frenzied and perfecting fusion.

It was nothing more than a hiss, nothing more than the smallest of sounds, and yet it was absolutely everything, the unabashed signifier of his passion, the man who had crawled his way under my skin, the need that trembled before me his once immovable frame, the craving for a taste of my sensual intimacy, the wantonness that tormented night and day his lusting body, that hardened his flesh and melted his gaze, that announced to the room and the world outside I am his, that compelled him to close the cruel space between us, that led his voracious hands to my ache, sliding up and around me, each touch another vulnerable link, his cock pressed hard, the grind of want on sodden mesh, the wetness, the flood only he can truly inspire and the lips, the lips, my lips, the lips of my honeyed cunt and glistening mouth, they betray me again, with his name and my whimper and my silent confessions, with the hiss, with my hiss, with the hiss, with our crushing kiss as he buries himself purely, sinfully, deep.

You know me, baby.

You know me better than the rest.

You know the wantonness that burns me deep, the temptress that forever lurks beneath the pink, beneath the innocence and purity of my arching curves in the broad daylight, the femme fatale that spins her web of darkness and debauchery, the seductress who brazenly parts her thighs as she guides your mouth and tongue and hard thick flesh to the need gleaming, pulsing its scarlet violence, the submissive who craves again the belt looped about her slender wrists and neck, your fist filled with the fire of her tresses, your palm gliding the leather along this sodden mess, the woman giving and taking her pleasure, our addictive sensual and carnal release, the torrent of her desire, the devouring urgency of her sweet cunt and slick kiss.

The mention of your name, the recollection of your voice, your kiss on my bare warmth, incites the riot, the rush of liquid fire, this immovable desire, this obstinate lust, the fingers gliding, snaking down this body to touch, to touch, to touch myself for you, to fuck my cunt, to come for you again, to release the sigh, the whimper, the cry, the scent of my sex that has etched itself into your psyche, your very flesh, your hunger hard and aching, the gleam of your yearning.

Lover… Come to me… And drink… Drink from me… The violet wine… Gloss your lips with the honeyed liquor gleaming on my skin… Rasp your tongue along the drip sinful born of the ache in this secret flesh… Savour the torrent of my need… Taste the woman who craves you best…

May this New Year
Bathe us in its firelight
In the passionate glow
In temptations that feed the flesh
In offerings that nurture the soul

Wishing you all a blissful, prosperous and seductively sensual 2014

~Minx x

Your voice filters through with the first rays of the sun, drawing me out of a restless slumber, rousing yet again this wanton desire, the body even now marked with the night’s carnal fury and aching pulsation, with the grip of your dominance and my easy slide into submission, the commands to which I yield always and completely, the slender legs parting at the mere whisper of your voice and hint of your fingers, the hips rising to meet the fire of your touch, to receive the drip of your words and your lashing tongue, the cunt begging for the kiss of your cock and the pearls of its glistening precum, the sex soaking the lily-white innocence you will defile and claim as your keepsake once you possess me and these soft, arching curves, once you fuck me with long, hard, steady strokes, once you spill your seed with a violent roar, once you own my slick and trembling orgasm and this insatiable craving for more, for more, one more…

And still, for you I fall.

Unable to resist, unable to hold firm, I plunge into the forbidding void between us, into the carnal promise of your waiting flesh, into the words spoken, screamed and whispered, into the words etched not only on my mind but also on the body, the body of this desire, this dangerous want, this feminine passion as it lives and breathes, as it tears me to easy shreds from within, as it dances on the trembling surface, taunting, inciting, leading my hands in their need to clutch, to slither underneath, to glide along the hot and slick and aching velvet, to finger the sex moaning your name in a vain attempt of replication, an imitation of your sequinned touch.

Gestures.

Decadent.
Debauched.
Downright dirty.

 I can think of a few.
How about you?