Once the darkness descends, once the moonlight beams through, once the sapphire glow of the night engulfs the room, the shadows, the spectres, they come for her. They come for her desiring flesh, for her skin fair and blushing, for the body ever reaching for his alluringly forbidden touch. They come to feed on its fire, its need, to coax its secrets chaste and corrupt. They come, winding in and around her, pressing hard and tight against her, pinning down their woman, seductress, their lover. They come mapping her, marking her with certainty, with obscurity, their trace a cruel reminder of her longing for him, to have him, to have him in her bed, between her lips, in her cunt bright, greedy, glistening.

They come, they come, alone and together, they come.

(Remember to knock on Osbasso’s door to see this week’s gorgeous players…)

The thought of you
Guides
My body to the floor
Persuades
My flesh to bathe in the bright
Compels
My fingers to feel, touch, caress
Sways
My hips to grind deep, groove right

(Remember to knock on Osbasso’s door to see this week’s gorgeous players…)

Baby
Come to bed
It’s cold outside
My body needs
Your fire
Your golden touch

(Remember to knock on Osbasso’s door to see this week’s gorgeous players…)

To gaze and map and kiss
With sweetness, sensual bliss
To have, to hold
To merge and melt and fuse
With body soft, with man desired
To linger, to know
To soothe and sate and pleasure seek
With the pink, in the golden glow
To give, to take
To feel and fuck and love
With indulgence, decadence complete
Is to live

(Remember to knock on Osbasso’s door to see this week’s gorgeous players…)

Through the dark of night
Across skies and lands and seas
I’ll be your star
I’ll be your light
I’ll guide your way
Back here
To me

(Remember to knock on Osbasso’s door to wish him a
Happy 6th HNT Anniversary and to see this week’s gorgeous players…)

On his command, her hands will chart the path from her neck to her breasts to her hips, delicate fingers teasing, finally easing the ebony netting past fair pouting flesh as she bends deeply at the waist, exposing her glistening sex to the light, to his gaze, to his hunger.

(Remember to knock on Osbasso’s door to see this week’s gorgeous players…)

Wrap yourself
In cotton crisp
In feathers fine
In woman wanting, warm and willing

(Remember to knock on Osbasso’s door to see this week’s gorgeous players…)

In the end, it is her very own hand that betrays her: it is the vein rippling her ordinarily fair, silken surface; it is the blood, slick and fiery, coursing with a maddening need; it is the slight tremor of the slender digits curved in aching readiness to caress the skin crying out for his flesh, screaming out for release; it is her perpetually desiring body that offers her up, proving to him, beyond a shadow of a doubt, she is his present, she is his past, she is his seductively sweet and carnal hereafter.

(Remember to knock on Osbasso’s door to see this week’s gorgeous players…)

The hat?
It stays put.
But every other thread is negotiable.

(Remember to knock on Osbasso’s door to see this week’s gorgeous players…)

Let me be
The pink
The state of your purest pleasure

Let me be
The one
The temptress in your mirror

(Remember to knock on Osbasso’s door to see this week’s gorgeous players…)