He grunts his approval as she spreads herself disgracefully wide open, her long lean legs hooking themselves over his muscular thighs, his cock, thicker and harder than she could have ever conceived now running along the soft strip of dark curls on the pillowy mound, now teasing her impossibly pink, smooth lips, now gliding through the velvet folds to the clitoris swollen, aching, calling, to the cunt hot and hungry and beckoning, to the cunt bright and plump and glistening, coating his throbbing shaft in her fire, in her juices before he selfishly, deliciously fills her to the brim, before he overpowers, before fucks her hard, before he takes her tight little cunt as his.

Your gaze
Your thoughts
Your presence
They feed and sustain me
They bathe this flesh
In the sensual
In the haze, the lilac glow

To my readers, to my friends, to my lovers, past and present, who have inspired the word
and the image, who have taken my heart, mind and body to the craved, the unimagined,
thank you for your enduring support and a memorable two years.

 ~Minx x

Come close
Come near
Drown me in your danger

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

Be my fire
Be my passion
Be my flesh and blood protection
Be my lover
Be my man
Be the one I wrap myself around

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

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.

Kiss these lips
Feed them your flesh, your secrets
Whisper into them desire
The cravings you long for in the night

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

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.

Against
This wall
This time
This bricks and mortar distance
I can not scale
I can not tame
I can not break into sweet soft yielding threads
I am nothing
But fire and blood and longing
I am nothing
Without your flesh to hold, indulge, to take

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

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.

These tips, these hands, these fingers, they do nothing but incite the riot, they do nothing but remind me of your sweet, possessing touch, they do nothing but flood my body with the ache, your kiss, our hunger, they do nothing but recall the man I crave and need too much.

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