Here and now, there’s only you and me, the fading light, this warm, spring breeze, an intensity of desire that brings us both to our knees, the worship of glowing skin and aching flesh as each stitch and thread is languidly teased away, the kisses luxurious, hungry and deep, an indulgent sensuality that inscribes onto our very souls each gasp and whisper and tremble, every groan, mark, shiver as you lay me down on crisp, white cotton, as you glide your flawless hands along this imperfect skin, as my fingers trace the hollow of your hips, as my lips and tongue find the racing pulse on your neck, as you spread me open and strip me bare, as my body yearns for your mouth and its unique caress, as you slowly ease your hard, dripping cock inside me to the hilt, as my sweet, hot cunt takes you, feels you, sheathes you, milks every drop of your come, as you claim me and fuck me and love me, as I possess you as master and man, as we fuse with a tenderness and carnality that leaves us breathless, complete, undone.

Breathless. Trembling. Wet. Aching.
Craved. Possessed. Marked.
Supple. Yielding. His.
Yours.

Fuck.

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.

I just need to feel you piercing
my soul, digging into
my flesh, a little
too deep

Your 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?

He told me I wouldn’t want his dark side.

The ravenous, rapacious man. The intensely driven one. The jealous, covetous him.

He’s never been more wrong.

For what he doesn’t fathom, the very thing he refuses to believe, is that I ache for just such a man, hunger like the starved always for him, for the man who cannot bear to share me with another, who craves to possess all I am as woman for himself alone, who needs to overwhelm in turn each one of my senses, who desires nothing more than my body and soul unravelled by his decadent dominance, bewitched by the lightness of his touch, who gazes deep into my clear eyes and recognises a kindred darkness, the one fearless in the face of the carnal cravings screaming silently beneath, the one who anoints me as his queen and lover, his cock whore and beloved with his fiery seed in my cunt and womb, with his name penned in our come on my lily-white skin, with the voracious tongue raked along my sodden cleft, with the thick hard flesh of the beast claiming, fucking, ruining for all others the desire and succulence of my sex.

Lover
I crave and burn
Glow for you and you alone

Every day begins…
With the rumble of the kettle and a pot of tea
With the yearning ache between silken thighs
With the craving inflamed by thoughts of you

If you happened upon me by chance, if your gaze found me as it wove through the crowd, as it travelled along the length of the street, as it followed the band of light streaming into the gallery, would you stand riveted, transfixed, would your breath be taken away, would your lips struggle with any utterance other than the whispered syllables of my name, would the tips of your fingers itch to reach out and caress the delicate swell of my breasts, would your body burn and silently scream for just one touch of this fragrant skin, for the woman soft, yielding and fevered, for the nakedness you ache to taste and devour and claim, would you run to me with an irrepressible urgency, would you walk with assurance and measure, would you come to me and bring us in close, would you speak to me simply in gesture, with your arms and their embrace, with the decadent cravings that course day and night through your veins, with the kiss so deep and sensual and voracious you mark indelibly my body and soul, with the need and the promise and the slick aching hunger of your hard burnished flesh, with the stroke and the thrust that will cleave and possess my sodden scarlet sex, would you take me then and there for all to witness, covet and see, would you fuck me until our moans and cries shattered the peace?

If you happened upon me by chance, if the universal forces aligned, if we stumbled and fell into the same time and place, would you also allow me to indulge you as mine?

One look, baby.

That’s all it ever takes.

One look from you is all it takes for each stitch and thread clinging tight to fall to pieces, to disintegrate, to surrender to your presence, to pool on the floor at my feet, to leave me wild and disheveled and utterly bare, to have me breathless and shivering wet, to leave me shrugging and tugging at the luxurious draperies that have somehow resisted your charm and strength, to have me yearning for your possessing touch and the hedonistic pleasures of your perfect flesh.