In those rapid beats of the clock…

Did you see?
Did you sense?
Did your flesh and blood perceive?
Did your stirring, insatiable cock by some means know just how this body yearns for your lingering touch, your urgent caress, just how this woman longs to drown in the depths of your sensual kiss?

In those swift strokes of the hand…

Did you feel?
Did you believe?
Did your skin prickle in its understanding?
Did your breath rasp and accelerate, your muscular chest heave once you realised it was you
I reach out for in the night, once you grasped my maddening need to melt and merge with your hard addictive heat?

In those sharp bangs of the drum…

Did you hear?
Did you discern?
Did your sexual soul take hold?
Did your ears swim in the moans of pleasure escaping these soft full lips, your body shudder, your uncut meat drip as I fingered and fucked this cunt to the light in the name of your passion, our flame?

In those fleeting pulses of time…

Did you taste?
Did you discover?
Did your mouth ask, speak its truth?
Did your lips and tongue offer their words, their hunger, their enveloping benediction as they craved me near, as they devoured me from afar, as they compelled you to recognise the sweet and cruel mistress of this irresistible, overwhelming desire?

It is his cock that stifles her scream.

It is the intensely thick, pulsating shaft languidly sliding between her full lips, teasing her flickering tongue, filling her slender throat, fucking her pretty little mouth that muffles the guttural cry from deep within her lithe body as he commands her to tease her cunt through the lace drenched in her liquid arousal, as he demands the removal of the white innocence bound tight around her hips, as he raises the succulent fabric to his nose and mouth, inhaling the dizzying perfume of her cock lust, drinking down the sweet musk of her desire.

Want
Want
Want
Want

It beats its rhythm, every moment, every hour, every day, shaking me from my slumber, waking me in the dead night, reminding me, taunting me, taunting this body, this feminine flesh weak and alive, compelling my hands to reach out and touch, my lips to feed and caress, my legs, my cunt to open and bloom wide and electric for the breath and the skin and the man and his thick, hard, completing heat.

Want
Want
Want
Want

It is my pulse, my gait, my grind, my sensual arc and bend and curve, my essence, my measure, the quantifiable measure of my need, of my cock lust, of my obsession, of my passion for his mind and his body and his sexual soul, for the flesh that perfects, for the kiss that consumes, for the cunt lust that propels his own rapid heartbeat.

Want
Want
Want
Want

It drives me, slows me, begins and ends me, it tears me to shreds and pieces me back together again, this want, this hunger, this need, this desire for pleasure in its infinite variety, this desire for the wanton, the carnal, the erotic, this desire for the multiplicity we crave and we seek, this desire, this desire, this desire for him, for him, for him.

Want
Want
Want
Want

Don’t go.
Stay.

Lie by my side, curl your nakedness into mine, caress then spread the legs raised up high, fit your imposing body into this here aching flesh, swim, swim, dive and plunge into the warmth, into the heat, into the tight velvet embrace, into this sensation, this moment enslaving and pure.

Don’t go.
Stay.

Let me kiss your tiredness away, allow my lips to tease and tempt you, to taste and know you, to breathe you back to life, to lead you into the shadows, to guide you into the light, to stain your pulsating flesh with scarlet signs of burning passion, to lick the pearls of your arousal glistening, to worship at the body, at the cock, at the man who inspires and sates my infinite yearning.

Don’t go.
Stay.

Stay. Stay. Stay. The outside world can wait.

I want your cock.

I want it as no other, hunger for it as never before.

I want your cock.

I want to rouse it from its slumber, tease it to hard, thick, glistening life. I want to feel it pulsing in my hand, in my mouth, in my cunt, in the tightness of my rosebud.

I want your cock.

I want to rouge my lips blood, shiny red and stain your shaft with my sultry kiss. I want to open the hot, wet tunnel between these lips, sliding you in, gliding you down, tasting, devouring the very essence of man.

I want your cock.

I want the cock of the gentleman seasoned and contained, the cock of the teenage boy on the very edge of his self-control. I want to bury your uncut meat so deep inside me your body growls and soars, your searing cream spilling forth urgently, violently to mark my soft fair skin, my bright clutching walls.

I want your cock.

I want it all to myself, selfishly taking and feasting on the flesh and the come and the man yearned for by so many. I want to please and pleasure it, charm and beguile it, captivate it, claim it as my very own.

I want your cock.

Yesterday, today and tomorrow. Your cock is all I want.

Breath
Sultry and hushed
Mapping, beseeching

Breath
Fiery and raspy
Insistent, deafening

Breath
Dancing on silken skin
At one with the knowing kiss

Breath
Whispered into the glisten
Exhaled into this suffering flesh

Breath
Taunting and merging
Your breath
Forever I am craving

I don’t want to rush. Not tonight. Not tonight.

Tonight, I want to linger, I want to stop time. I want to seize it, bend it, break it wide open, charging each endless moment with you, losing myself in fulfilling every one of your deepest, darkest desires.

I don’t want to rush. Not tonight. Not tonight.

Tonight, I need to feel and touch, caress, absorbing and consuming, venerating and possessing, my hands on your torso pressing you back gently into the wall, my hands gliding up along the soft, sweet curve of your neck, my hands travelling down spreading you wide, your thighs now mine, releasing the binds, the buttons, the prison keeping you hidden from my sight, my hands sliding, languorously stroking the eager thickening shaft, sliding, sensually weaving through the curls on your heaving chest, sliding, seductively curling around the tensing muscles of your nape, sliding, beguiling, captivating the space that cruelly separates, sliding, luring, finally delivering your lips, your breath, your groan, your kiss.

I don’t want to rush. Not tonight. Not tonight.

Tonight, I yearn to drown in your scent, to taste and feed on your flesh, devour the heat rising up through your skin, the passion simmering your mind, your very soul. I yearn to bury my nose in deep, inhaling the pungent perfume of your maleness, the tip tickling, tracing each smooth, perfect, willing hollow, the tip teasing, taunting, feather lips and tongue soon after follow, my mouth tormenting with its lightness, with the silken peaks so new and familiar, my mouth sating with its gluttony, with the urgent deepness of its swallow, my mouth, my lips, my tongue roaming, exploring, gorging on the meat throbbing, aching, on the pearls nestling, on the cockhead dripping, on the jewels, on the feast, on the shine with a freedom, with a hunger, with an addiction abandoned, enslaving.

I don’t want to rush. Not tonight. Not tonight.

Tonight, I crave our merging, our melting, our nakedly intimate union, our bodies bathed in shadows of sepia enigma, enveloped in hushed, sultry tones, our bodies seeking, questing, opening, giving, taking as I sink down onto your hard waiting flesh, as I take you deep into my tight velvet cunt, as I moan with the ecstasy of your life force pulsing inside me, as you groan with a power that steals the rapid heartbeat, as I ride you with languid undulation, as I ride you with fevered concentration, my hips swirling, flowing, my swollen clitoris pressing, rubbing, your glans filling, stretching, your cockhead straining at my limits, my sex grasping at your own, your hands mapping, caressing the fairest of thighs, the pert swell of my breasts, your body soaring, ascending, my fingers digging, branding, our gaze locking, eyes glowing with the fire, with the hunger for release, for that sweet and violent release, for the cream, for the flood, for the come that will mark you as mine, for the come that will mark me as yours, for the liquid heat, for the scolding libations longed for as no other, eyes glowing with the longing and the want and the need and the yearning and the craving for more, for more, for more … evermore.

I don’t want to rush. Not tonight. Not tonight.

His gaze. His gaze. His gaze.

It transforms light into shadow, shadow into dark molten desire. It compels her to offer up her flesh for sacrifice, for worship, for debasement. It strips her bare, destroys her inhibitions, shreds every last vestige of her naked shame. It whispers, it speaks, it screams at her, to her, with a recognition that possesses the wanton terrain. It lures her to him time and again, tempting the woman, enticing the lover, binding the whore, caressing the erotic longings on her very surface, grasping the carnality buried deep within.

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

You’ve changed me. You’ve changed me and my desire.

No, no. You’ve done more than that.

You’ve ruined it and me. You’ve ruined us, spent and consumed us. Unknowingly, unwittingly. Softly, slowly, sensuously. Ruthlessly and callously.

And even as I continue to want you, even as the thought of you has my cunt dripping its sweet nectar, even as that glisten fuses my bright flesh to the pink girlish cotton, even as I seek out my sex and come hard and loud with a speed that leaves me violently breathless, I hate you a little for that.

All of a sudden, the new season is here. As the dusk settles behind the threatening rain clouds, it smells and feels and sounds like autumn at last.

And right at this very moment, the only thing I yearn for is your kiss, our mingled breath, your muted moan, our bodies in a sensual tangle, skin on skin, warmth on softness, man and woman, the music of our love making merging with the soundtrack of the world shutting itself in.