Year 49
No greater moment to reach out
To taste and imbibe
The sensual and wanton divine

Десет. Dix. Dieci.

Ten.

I can barely believe a decade has passed by; a decade that has seen me bare so much of my body, desire and sexual soul.

In keeping with the last few years, I’ve been struggling to find good reason to mark and celebrate this virtual home’s beginnings since it has become such a neglected place of late. My time, energy and creativity have been channelled into my professional life, into work that nourishes and compels me to reach for new heights.  

While that sphere has overwhelmed my drive in some respects, in others it has intensified my urge to write and photograph, to document my desire and sexuality, to keep alive the woman of passion and sensuality, the woman of creative vision, the woman tenacious and resilient, the woman in word and image, the woman of dark and light.

In the shadows, I continue to create. Not with the regularity that embodied (quite literally) the early years of this site, but with occasional and considered bursts that allow me to focus on capturing the essence of time, of space, of desire, of the woman in her (increasingly fiery and ravenous) middle age.

So, here I am, taking a moment to observe the birth – as well as my continual rebirth – through this lovingly and lustfully created Love Hate Sex Cake. In that commemoration, there is also and always my debt and heartfelt gratitude to you – my friends and readers – for your unerring support, encouragement and communion with my work. More than simply reading and gazing, you have encouraged me to push my boundaries, to hone my craft, to sigh and spill my lust, to bare not just so much, but more… All.  

~ Minx x

PS If you’re ever in the mood for more regular erotic offerings, you can find me on Twitter…

The dawn breaks; its sensual destruction caressing your skin, softly teasing the ache, your intensifying yearning for the kiss of his mouth and the touch of his skin and your bodies bound as one.

The dawn breaks; your need and longing overwhelming, your body and soul reaching out to intimacy’s call.

On the high of
Our desire
We float

(noun)
1. The inflection: in his voice just before he presses his lips to my sultry sighs and wet hunger.

(verb)
2. The reveal: of my wanton need once his hard flesh guides me to the carnal darkness in the light.

Once your hands find me, flaunt me
Once your flesh fills me, owns me
The world becomes golden

It is here I crave you most.

In this room, in these clandestine spaces on high, the cityscape framed in glass cool, clear and brazen.

It is now I need you most.

Within these four walls, the ultimate stage for our fusion, for the possession of this flesh as you press my rose-peaked breasts into our grinding reflection, your thick shaft dripping with a hunger at one with the molten heat between my thighs, and our eyes searching, searching, between each furious and animal thrust, for the veiled and desiring gazes that will feast on the vision, our unbridled exhibition.

She shields herself, concealing from view the succulence owned and possessed by him, the naked and molten epicentre of the desire that exists for his eyes only.

As she poses and revels in the display of her scantily-clad form to the unseen eyes beyond the picture window, the wetness flows white-hot as she recalls an altogether different image – the photograph created for his carnal and bespoke tastes of her rear encased in the same diaphanous mesh, the suspender straps draw tight, their lines the ideal frame for the sweet cunt sodden with wanton need for the grip of his hands, the power of his thrusts, the seed buried deep by his thick hard perfecting flesh.

Even as your hands rest on the triangle of light kissing the indentation at my waist, I wonder…

Would they hunger for the woman reflected, divided, yearning, out of reach?

Would they crave the riven being before you, the intensity, the duality, the sensual and the carnal, the appetites and their satiation, brought together as one by your passion and your touch?

On this cold and lonely morning,
only your touch can
save me.