They can only be the bearers of suggestion, even as they brush for the first time the soft curve of your nape, as they graze sensuously along the length of your hardness, as they stain every inch of your flesh with my favoured scarlet rouge.
They can only ever hint, dance around this barely contained yearning, until I press my breasts into your back and my fingers surrender themselves to the indulgence of gliding up into the dark curls on your chest, each digit lingering on the pounding in your heart, memorising the pulse between your legs.
They can only hint at the way I crave you, the way my wanton mouth will kiss and feed, the way I will drink your groans, suck the hunger from your tongue, devour the need dripping from your flesh, the way my delicate body will arc above you, the way I will tremble and moan and break beneath you, my cunt enveloping you, engulfing you, binding you close as I come hotly over your naked and ravenous cock.
Even as they speak to you from across vast lands and oceans, they can only hint at the depth and the fire of this uncontrollable want.
Cloaked in velvet shadows, bathed in dazzling light, I have little choice but to bare my soul, lay down my truth, curve, arc and unfurl this body, lead the woman to hope, to the wonder, to the sights and sounds and flavours of this life’s complexity, its pleasures, verve and intensity, its infinite sensuous mystery.
The chaos of its unrelenting want. The blur of lips and tongues. My body jolted back to life with each connection of wet hunger and gleaming skin.
Your cock deep inside me.
The thickness of your flesh and the cry from my lips and the heat of my melting cunt. The fusion of our bodies and the flavour of your soul on my tongue.
This is all it takes. Two seemingly simple movements, two mere moments of pleasure.
And I am enslaved.
And I am yours.
I could spill thousands of words on each erotic detail, on every sharp intake of breath, on every touch that reduces our skin to shivering gooseflesh. But it wouldn’t be enough. They are never enough.
Because without you, without your body against mine, without my body against yours, without your fingers wound in my tresses guiding my mouth to your glistening shaft, without the genuflecting woman before you who aches to worship every inch of your flesh, without the fire of your voice on my skin, without my legs around your waist as you fuck me, without the intimacy of our kiss and the carnal savagery of this lust, without your come anointing my most sacred place, the words are nothing, nothing but ghosts and echoes.