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Once Upon A Time

158_Once Upon A TimeOnce upon a time, his gaze studied every inch of my fair body, as if it were a wonder born in a bygone era, a curiosity fashioned from canvas and brushstrokes and oils, worthy of the gallery wall, the hungry crowd, deserving of his centre stage.

Once upon a time, his hands roamed with passion, urgency and fervour, as if these curves were chiselled from cold and unyielding marble, this skin and flesh brought to fiery life by desire and her sculptor, softening under his touch, melting on his lips and tongue, reaching and begging for his own thick hard need to claim them.

Once upon a time, he yearned to feel, devour, remember, the woman beyond this creation, the being beyond mere pixels on the screen.

 Slink in to see this week’s delectable players…
SinfulSundayLips150

On the Tiles

147_On the TilesLead me away from the crowd, from their prying eyes.

Then take me. Possess me. On the tiles. On the chill of the bathroom floor.

Bring your hands to my knees. Spread me open. Spread me shamelessly wide. Expose it all.

The ebony netting encasing my slender thighs. The lattice framing the nakedly wanton sex beneath. The succulence of the lips pouting and longing for your mouth between the diamond breaks in the weave.

And the petite and inviting tear at the very centre, in the sodden gusset already corrupted by own teasing fingers, the one now hovering above the entrance to my ravenous cunt, the one calling for your hands, begging for your fingers, waiting patiently for you to rend and rip and shred the mesh to easy pieces before you wrap my legs around your waist and slide your hard, thick cock inside me to the breathless, clutching hilt, without warning, without ceremony, only desire, this consuming desire, this desperate need to fuse our trembling flesh and surrender absolutely to temptation.

In the Gloaming

130_In the GloamingFuck.

The growled utterance shatters resolutely the silence.

These four little letters, this singular word is all I need to sense the force of his desire, the complex ways in which I tempt him, here and now in the gloaming, dressed in nothing more than nylon and pearls and the heat of my own maddening craving, the pulsating ache between my fair thighs, the sex scarlet and sodden crying out for his mouth to kiss me soft and deep and long, for his tongue to enslave me, to drink down this sweet, fragrant nectar, for his thick, hard flesh to fill me, unleash me, tame me, possess and fuck my tight honeyed cunt with a sensual measure that leaves my entire body trembling and these lips whispering their hunger for more.

A Lover’s Touch

128_Lover TouchYour lips, lover.

Where will your lips begin?
With the sunlight softly kissing my thigh?
With the delicate swell sheathed in the sheer midnight lace?

Your hands, lover.

How will they bare their craving to touch?
The creamy skin instantly warmed by your seductive caress?
The lean line of the belly you ache to trace and map and mark as your own?

And your flesh, lover.

What of its burning want and its need?
For the slick, sultry depths silently calling for your hard thick cock?
For the one who craves to be taken with such force the sweat pools in the small of her back?

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