The mention of your name, the recollection of your voice, your kiss on my bare warmth, incites the riot, the rush of liquid fire, this immovable desire, this obstinate lust, the fingers gliding, snaking down this body to touch, to touch, to touch myself for you, to fuck my cunt, to come for you again, to release the sigh, the whimper, the cry, the scent of my sex that has etched itself into your psyche, your very flesh, your hunger hard and aching, the gleam of your yearning.

In her sensual arc, he receives the sigh, the burnish of the sun on her skin, the piquancy of her wetness, the sweetness of her perfume, the desire that burns through flesh and bone, the need for his breath soft against her nakedness, for the hands and his touch and their landfall, for the caress along the grain, along the curves now trembling, aching for his uniquely perfecting form.

The silk ties cradled in his hands are a mere formality.

For they both know, it is his voice, the deep accented timbre, the gaze of his desire, his commands that bind her and bind her to him absolutely, that leave her breathless, trembling, that guide her slender wrists to rest obediently in the small of her back, that speak directly to the skin silently screaming for the indelible trace of his touch, to the supple body aching to submit, to be bound, to buck wildly, arch and strain against the ropes as he takes her, fucks her, claims her, as his mouth feasts ferociously on the slickness of her sex, as he buries his thick hard cock inside her so deep, her sweet cunt bares the imprint of his flesh, his name.

And I wait for you
In scarlet luminescence
Spread out on crisp white cotton
Pressed hard against the wall
Utterly naked in body and in want

Lover… Come to me… And drink… Drink from me… The violet wine… Gloss your lips with the honeyed liquor gleaming on my skin… Rasp your tongue along the drip sinful born of the ache in this secret flesh… Savour the torrent of my need… Taste the woman who craves you best…

To many, the gesture would be perceived as coy, somewhat demure.

But, he knows better. In fact, he knows her best.

For in her downcast gaze and ebony kitten lashes and the full and parted lips rouged as red as the light which bathes her contours, he recognises the same palpable heat, the same fiery passion and dangerous darkness as the one radiating from her wantonly arched body, from the brazenly exposed and denuded sex dripping, soaking the softness of her inner thighs with its insatiable and lascivious want.

Once she meets his stare, once her eyes are transfixed by the line of his pulsating and thickening shaft, by the obvious needs of his flesh, he sees the shadows engulf her absolutely, his temptress spiralling into the carnal depths, her arms slackening, sliding down the cool stucco, her hands descending with uncharacteristic restraint to tease her slender neck, her pert breasts, the flair of her hips before grasping at each of her cheeks, spreading herself open, so wide her cunt is now lusting sweetness suspended, her secret place scarlet and gleaming and silently pleading for completion, an erotic trap and invitation to partake in their mutual pleasure and ruin, to have him devastate, to have him taste her, his mouth gorging on the succulence like a starved and growling animal, his cock piercing her with selfish urgency when his fever reaches its own maddening pitch, his fingers claiming titian tresses, his lips whispering the words of filth and seduction as he fucks her, fucks her hard and slow and deep, fucks her with measured ferocity, his glans emerging slick and angry with each greedy thrust, as he fucks her hard and slow and deep, as he takes each moan and whimper and clutch of the velvet, seizing every shuddering orgasm driven from her body without mercy, as he fucks her hard and slow and deep, marking her with the violent surge, with the seed she craves to hold forever inside her, with his kiss and his bite, with the roar of her damnation, with the sigh of her sweet name.

May this New Year
Bathe us in its firelight
In the passionate glow
In temptations that feed the flesh
In offerings that nurture the soul

Wishing you all a blissful, prosperous and seductively sensual 2014

~Minx x

Your voice filters through with the first rays of the sun, drawing me out of a restless slumber, rousing yet again this wanton desire, the body even now marked with the night’s carnal fury and aching pulsation, with the grip of your dominance and my easy slide into submission, the commands to which I yield always and completely, the slender legs parting at the mere whisper of your voice and hint of your fingers, the hips rising to meet the fire of your touch, to receive the drip of your words and your lashing tongue, the cunt begging for the kiss of your cock and the pearls of its glistening precum, the sex soaking the lily-white innocence you will defile and claim as your keepsake once you possess me and these soft, arching curves, once you fuck me with long, hard, steady strokes, once you spill your seed with a violent roar, once you own my slick and trembling orgasm and this insatiable craving for more, for more, one more…

And still, for you I fall.

Unable to resist, unable to hold firm, I plunge into the forbidding void between us, into the carnal promise of your waiting flesh, into the words spoken, screamed and whispered, into the words etched not only on my mind but also on the body, the body of this desire, this dangerous want, this feminine passion as it lives and breathes, as it tears me to easy shreds from within, as it dances on the trembling surface, taunting, inciting, leading my hands in their need to clutch, to slither underneath, to glide along the hot and slick and aching velvet, to finger the sex moaning your name in a vain attempt of replication, an imitation of your sequinned touch.

Gestures.

Decadent.
Debauched.
Downright dirty.

 I can think of a few.
How about you?