And I will dress for you in nothing but silk stockings, my sensual nakedness trembling and on display, craving to have you, to have your hands finally upon me, to watch them glide along the sheathed line of these long and slender legs, to feel your palms firm on the ebony tops, your fingers dancing lightly on the skin atop, before you ease me, spread me shamelessly wide open, my body arching, pouting, my sex gleaming and wanton, hungry for possession, for the sweetest violation, your thick and hard pulsation, the thunder and the fire, our voracious need.

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?

Desire. This desire. My desire.

At this very moment, it is a burden, a cruel and vampiric drain that depletes all strength, all rationality, leaving me delicate and weak, inking my skin with impatience, marking the woman before you with an aching vulnerability, the nexus of her mind and soul and body nothing more than a raw and open wound of want, of need, of a craving so deep she is mended, reborn within your darkness and danger, within your protective embrace, your heated whispers and knowing caress, the passionate kisses devouring her surrender, the peaks of her breasts, the bare slickness of her sex, the sweet tears of release staining the blush high on her cheek.

The storm clouds, they gather; rolling in with the menace of electric whips and rumbling thunder, prematurely blackening the sky, defiling the morning just as this desire corrupts my mind and debases this body, this woman weakened by the want, the myopic want for you and only you, the craving for your power and domination, for each of the lustful urges that tear your flesh to easy shreds and scar your very soul, the grip of fingers in my hair, your hand at the curve of my throat, your mouth feeding the debauchery of your own need into my poised and glistening lips, the trailing touch of rough digits itching to bury themselves into my molten core, the sex, the cunt throbbing, silently screaming your name, the deluge between my legs, the ultimate betrayal of my enduring hunger, the hunger not merely for the cock straining hard against the fabric but also the feast of your kiss, our skin fused and gleaming with the carnality of our fucking, with the fire burning deep within, the flames engulfing, reducing to dust these bodies and just as quickly resurrecting, giving sweet life as we clutch and shudder, as we surge and cry out together, as the tempest rages in here and the now and the elsewhere for us both.

Her body
Born of passion

Her soul
Whispered creation

The touch isn’t yours
But it should be
This woman isn’t yours
But she could be

The lands of untamed beauty so close to my fair city, they burn, engulfed in soaring flames, savagely reduced to ash and dust and smoke that finds its way here to me, that suffocates the ether, that morphs the sun and transforms its golden rays into streaks of the cruellest platinum.

Bathed in this blistering heat, in this false and unforgiving luminosity, I ache for the loss; my heart shatters at the devastation. And yet, I wait now, bare and exposed and alone, my skin gleaming with the sheen, shivering in fevered want, needing, hungry for the ruin of our own unique blaze, the fire my body refuses to forget and erase, the sensual softness of your touch and the sweet violence of your flesh as you open and take and possess me, as you consume my very soul, as you kiss these lips, giving life, taking breath, as you slide yourself deep inside me, my cunt clutching and flooding, fingers and nails scratching and drawing the blood that thunders through your veins, your hips thrusting the force of man into my feminine fragility, the thick hard cock that knows me and perfects me, fucks me and devours me, marks me and fills me until I come, until I break, until I cry out like an anguished animal on the brink of defeat.

Somehow, someway.

Through oceans and lands and the sky up above, through the silence and the stillness, through the clamour and the bustle and the crowd pressed in tight, they found me.

Somehow, someway.

Through the days and the months and the years, through lost and lonely nights, through the dreaming on empty mornings, through my wanton lusts and sensual yearnings, through this desire’s threat to tear my supple flesh to easy shreds, they knew me.

Somehow, someway.

Through the verse, through the prose, in every line and word and syllable, in each breath and sigh, whisper and growl, you touched and caressed my mind, glimpsed then memorised this body, inflaming the longings I could scarcely admit, etching into my skin the passions that coursed through your veins, igniting the feminine curves that even now hunger for your strength and possession, to have you plunge into these clutching velvet depths, to have you wild at heart and free and abandoned, to have you mark yourself in the glistening fire dripping onto the softness between my legs, scorching a path of need into the purity stretched taut on the bed.

Somehow, someway.

Through the beginning and the ending, through the space of the in-between, the words came for me, you came to me, bringing this woman time and again to her knees, your kiss the sweetest recognition, your hands proof of pleasure without inhibition, your hardness given, your thickness taken, the pearl nestled in your cockhead devoured, your mouth and its smile, the arms wound about me, bodies and souls for a brief beautiful moment bound together as one.