Her tremble meets his once palms, fingers, tips finally make contact, once they finally run over the deep filigree band of ivory lace, his sensual touch teasing its limits, her borders, tracing the line of the suspender belt, the swell of her abdomen, the curve of her hips as he slowly descends the straps drawn so very tight, his hands slipping slowly between her thighs, inside the tops of her tan stockings, his hands caressing, stroking, taking in the transition between nylon and her bare warmth, his hands drinking in her fair skin, committing to memory her femininity, his fingers drawing their aching design on her soft sweet glistening flesh.

Tired. Tired. I’m so tired. I’m so tired I can’t think. I can’t think what food to eat, which clothes to wear, the way I should tie or place or set my hair. I’m so tired the banality of my day, the must-dos flooding my brain, leave me exhausted, in a whir.

And yet, I know if you were here, if I was there, if our bodies were together enveloped in this darkness, if our bodies were together cosseted away from the cold, hard, howling wind, if our bodies were together pressed in close, pressed in tight, if we were together you would revive me, you would bring me back to the light, the touch of your skin breathing in new life, your deep, sensual kiss calling to the passion never far from this fair surface, your hands travelling up the length of my naked back, your hand nestling intimately between these vulnerable blades, your hand, your fingers weaving through the curls at my nape, your lips whispering my name, moaning your desire, your thick hard cock filling me, feeding me, fucking me, wanting me, loving me, showing me the way.

You are with me, in thoughts and dreams and waking, in the tender darkness where I can whisper the truth of this desire to the phantoms of the night, in the harsh glare of the light where I tuck it away inside this ever-longing body for safe keeping.

You are with me, in thoughts and dreams and waking, the blur of memory, the merest reverie setting my femininity, my sensuality alight, my hands instinctively shedding the innocence of white cotton, my fingers teasing this skin, this smoothness, this freckled fairness, this flesh reaching out to the space beside me where you belong, reaching out to the void your intensely masculine body should fill and love and live.

You are with me, in thoughts and dreams and waking, my lips longing to spend and revive with their sweetness and their danger, my legs yearning to wrap themselves around this man so tight, my body wanting, my body needing the breath, the beat, the caress of your unique flesh, my cunt wanting, my cunt needing the kiss of your perfection, the thick hard glorious invasion.

You are with me, in thoughts and dreams and waking, this body electric unwilling, unable to forget.

He climbs on-board and sits down next to me, as he always does if the seat vacant, as I invariably hope he will.

I wish him there every morning as we spy one another on the 7:25 through the big picture windows of the crowded weekday bus. I wish him there beside me, wanting to feel the warmth radiating from his masculine and clearly disciplined body, wanting to inhale the mix of his skin and the cologne on his freshly shaved face, wanting to break all social barriers and wind my fingers around his nape, drawing him close to these lips, to the scarlet kiss yearning to brand that soft spot on his neck.

I wish him there just as I wish him in my bed, just as I wish him to arrive at my door and without a single word to seize and possess me, to make me his, to tear these clothes from my body, his hands tracing the line from my neck to my breasts to the flare of my hips, his hands running up the length of my calves to these creamy, supple thighs, his hands taking hold, splaying me wide on the hard, polished floor, holding me open to his gaze, to the gaze burning to see my bright gleaming flesh, to see the glisten dripping from these honeyed lips, to the mouth hungry to feast, to the cock needing the embrace of my sweet hot clutching cunt.

I wish him there, I wish him here. And as I do you appear before me, you come back to me, erasing him, becoming him, your voice and face and body replacing, sating my sensual longings, my primal greed unlike any other man, unlike any other, stranger or known, your dark eyes meeting mine, your beard leaving the lover’s trace on my skin fair, on my passion vulnerable, your kiss, your kiss, your kiss, the kiss of your lips, the hot kiss of your skin, the kiss of perfection from your thick hard uncut flesh, your kiss, your kiss, your kiss, the kiss of our bodies as we fuck and grind and ride and plunge headlong into this familiar and unique bliss.

All I have to give, all I have to offer is this woman here before you, this fair, imperfect surface, these uniquely feminine depths, this mind sharp and hungry and inquiring, this gaze blue, this skin soft, this body supple, this body become electric with your briefest grazing touch, this body yearning to explore possibilities infinite and endless, the sensual, the carnal, the craved, the unimagined, the woman to your man, this body longing to worship, to venerate, to know you, this body on its knees whispering the benediction so deserved, these lips kissing, tasting, feasting, these fingers charting, mapping, rejoicing, this cunt giving, taking, fucking, at one with your thick hard perfecting flesh, this heart beating, beating, beating, beating passion, love, desire, beating night, beating day, beating crazed against your chest, these arms wound tight, these arms wound right, wound with freedom and belonging, wound with flesh and blood, with fire, with the need to live this short, sweet life in the present, in this now.

The winds they howl; screaming, crying, lashing the cold, hard rain against the glass, uprooting earth and flowers and trees, destroying the material world once so solid beneath my feet.

The winds they howl; wailing, moaning, breathing life into this torment, this longing that tears mercilessly at this woman wanton, that whispers cruelly into the long, deep dead of night, that caresses me with the sweet gruffness of his voice, the sound of my name on his lips, the weight of his body bearing down, his thick hard beguiling flesh, the hands possessing me tight, the touch, the kiss, the fire setting me free.

The winds they howl; groaning, yelling, words of dissonance, of resonance, remainders, reminders of the feelings that make perfect yet little sense, that flood my mind with its complexity, that knot my stomach, that seize my heart, that capture my skin and flesh and cunt and soul, racing, pulsing, pounding with its simplicity, that have me crazed and yearning, that have me wanting him, wanting us, needing you in every way, in every way I have imagined, in every way this passion has yet to conceive.

The winds they howl; the winds they howl. My love for you, the winds they howl.

This can’t be tamed.

This passion, this need, this desire coursing oily hot through my veins, this sensuality softly rising up, prickling my skin with its gleaming, scented sheen, this carnality tearing at my flesh and blood and bones through the dark hours and the light, this woman staring back at me in the silvery reflective glass.

This can’t be tamed. I can’t be tamed. And I’m unsure I even want to try.

If you only knew what I’d give right now to have you hold me, to have you want to hold me, to hold me tight, to hold me close, to hold me like you’ll never let me go, to hold me until day becomes our velvet night, to hold me until the first rays of the morning light, to hold me until our heat turns into fire, our fire into ash, this ash into earth and flesh and blood and sweat and come, to hold me until our breath and kiss and delirious passion become one.

It’s almost late; it’s almost ten, the quiet of the night finally setting in. And the only thing I want right now is you in my bed.

On this night, I need its softness, your hardness, its crisp clean whiteness, your naked body spread out before me on the pristine purity I long to soil with our sweat, our slick, our come. On this night, I want to take you slowly, sensually, my impatience this once contained as I kiss you lightly, deeply, my lips and tongue tasting, devouring, my nose inhaling, drowning in your scent, my gaze tracing, my hands mapping, these fingers brushing, possessing, my cunt enveloping, acquiescing, my hips gliding, riding, your cock, your heat caressing, overtaking, our passion climbing, cresting, your deep voice groaning, your deep voice calling, your hot seed splashing, my fiery glisten coating, our spent bodies curling, entwining, our spent bodies even then ever yearning, my senses committing, memorising your power, your desire, your flesh, my senses drinking, drifting, falling, dreaming of the body magnetic, of the man by my side whose sweet, mellifluous breath leaves me in a daze.

I can’t be measured. I can’t be measured with you. Not with you.

I try, I do try, but I fail miserably, each and every time. In the face of you, my carnality, my sensuality rises up, forcing its way through my skin, tearing at my flesh, dizzying my mind, shredding the seams of my impatience, my rationality, my experience of time. In the face of you and your body and your passions and your words, I am aflame.

In the end, it is this flame, this fire, my fury, my fervour that has burnt us right up for the very last time. And in its wake there is nothing but the need to guard and shield and hide this flesh, this heart, this vulnerability away, to paper over the fissure of desire you cruelly and tenderly tore open wide, to find my way through the tears and this pain to the love and the lust and the home of man I hunger and crave.