Let me lead you
Away
Astray

Let me lead you
Night
Day

Let me lead you
Body
Mind

Let me lead you
Take you
Make you
Mine

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

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

In the flicker of an eye, she appears before him in the low-lit entrance, dressed in the deepest midnight black, as if conjured from the innermost recesses of his base imaginings. Guided by the seductively guttural moan of the jazz trumpet, she languidly slinks to the wall, pressing her petite frame into the stucco, her long fingers beginning the slow release, teasing open each clasp to reveal the satin, the lace and the firm, ready flesh to his transfixed gaze.

Moving toward her with an ease that betrays nothing of the urgency rising up inside him, he curls his hand around the growing swell straining the tailored suiting, relishing the fiery passion his intensely masculine arousal ignites, savouring his powerful hold over this rapacious woman.

Yet, as her look once again joins his, as the raspy breath escapes her glistening mouth, as she sensually strokes the swollen slickness down below, as she opens herself up for him, to him, his possession dissolves in an instant, her dangerous shadows unwittingly drawing him in, her unbound desire wordlessly calling him into her velvet web.

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

He tells me he likes pink.
He tells me he likes girlish.
He tells me he’d like to kiss me, taste me, make love to me
on a bed dressed in crisp, white cotton.

Who am I to argue with that?

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

Traverse the land
Cross the sea
Come here
Lie close
Hide away with me

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

He lingers in the doorway, his muscular chest rising and falling, his thick meat progressively hardening, as he drinks in the woman craved as no other, as he takes in the sensual curve of her mouth, the heady scent of her perfume, the shiver rippling through the flesh wordlessly calling out for his touch.

And as he crosses the threshold, his arms encircling her waist, his eyes gazing into the deep, their bodies finally merging as one, she exhales his name along with her heat, her yearning finding its voice, her desire finding its mate, her passion finding its home.

(click)

Every minute is an hour
When you’re not by my side
When my flesh calls out for you
And only you

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

As the rain lashes against the window on this blustery night, he surveys the woman before him, his eyes caressing the pouting flesh of the creature who has tortured him with her desires, who has inspired a hunger and frustration foreign to him until now.

While he aches to reach out and take hold, his body shivering, his thick uncut meat throbbing as the pungent scent of their mutual arousal fills the room, he restrains himself. On this night, there will be no giving in to her. Not easily or swiftly, at any rate. For on this winter’s night, he longs to hear the confession of her own desperation, yearns for the sweet, whispered appeals for his weight, his skin, his kiss, his cock, his come.

Once she surrenders herself with the very words that drew him in, once the fevered need rises up and breaks over her supple form, once he knows beyond a shadow of a doubt her tight little cunt is flowing the nectar most craved, he will scale the metal barrier and join with her; arms snaking, hands exploring, mouth devouring, possessing, partaking and worshiping with his entire being.

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

(click)

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