In your darkness
I see the light

In your light
True, pure desire

In your desire
The home for which I long

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

It takes all of her strength not to reach out to him.

It takes every ounce of her self-control not to arch up to meet the hand adorned by the crisp, white cuff and platinum link, not to give her body over to his touch familiar and new, possessing and sweet. It takes all of her restraint, all of her will not to give in to the urge to trail her slender fingers over the smoothness of the gleaming leather, to run her hands up along the warmth radiating through the charcoal wool, to map the muscular calves, the tensing thighs, to tease and stroke then devour the throbbing hardness nestled between his legs, to splay herself, open herself, reveal her fiery brightness to the flesh that perfects her. It takes everything she has, everything she is not to instinctively surrender to the passions, the impulses, the carnality this man inspires with little effort and action.

It takes everything, all things, this desire for him. It takes, it strips, it breaks, it pieces her together again.

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

Tug
At the strings
Of the flesh
Of the soul
Of the heart

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

The low dusk light
This winter’s day
They call to have you near

To have you here
In my arms
By my side

To have your flesh
Caress my warmth
Against my rapid beat

To have my lover
Meet the fire of my longing
Merge with sensual moment complete

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

Once the darkness descends, once the moonlight beams through, once the sapphire glow of the night engulfs the room, the shadows, the spectres, they come for her. They come for her desiring flesh, for her skin fair and blushing, for the body ever reaching for his alluringly forbidden touch. They come to feed on its fire, its need, to coax its secrets chaste and corrupt. They come, winding in and around her, pressing hard and tight against her, pinning down their woman, seductress, their lover. They come mapping her, marking her with certainty, with obscurity, their trace a cruel reminder of her longing for him, to have him, to have him in her bed, between her lips, in her cunt bright, greedy, glistening.

They come, they come, alone and together, they come.

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

The thought of you
Guides
My body to the floor
Persuades
My flesh to bathe in the bright
Compels
My fingers to feel, touch, caress
Sways
My hips to grind deep, groove right

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

Baby
Come to bed
It’s cold outside
My body needs
Your fire
Your golden touch

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

To gaze and map and kiss
With sweetness, sensual bliss
To have, to hold
To merge and melt and fuse
With body soft, with man desired
To linger, to know
To soothe and sate and pleasure seek
With the pink, in the golden glow
To give, to take
To feel and fuck and love
With indulgence, decadence complete
Is to live

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

Through the dark of night
Across skies and lands and seas
I’ll be your star
I’ll be your light
I’ll guide your way
Back here
To me

(Remember to knock on Osbasso’s door to wish him a
Happy 6th HNT Anniversary and to see this week’s gorgeous players…)

On his command, her hands will chart the path from her neck to her breasts to her hips, delicate fingers teasing, finally easing the ebony netting past fair pouting flesh as she bends deeply at the waist, exposing her glistening sex to the light, to his gaze, to his hunger.

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