How can it be, lover? How can it be?

How can it be your carnal masculinity turns me on my head so easily? How can it be the anticipation of your touch leaves me shivering, aching wet? How can it be the yearning for your flesh compels these legs to rise up to heaven’s edge? How can it be the desire for your body to slide along, between, inside this velvet heat reduces me to a whimpering mess? How can it be, lover? How can it be? How can it be the thought of you shatters this woman so absolutely?

May this year
Bright and new
Bathe you in its light
Inspire you to reach for stars
Tease, tempt and satisfy
The deepest passions
Of body, soul and mind

Wishing you all a blissful, prosperous and cheeky 2013

~Minx x

The summer shimmers beyond these walls, but this body gleams not merely with the season. It is my heat, our fire, this passion for you that smoulders in my core, that drums its beat in my heart, in my sex, in my soul, that rises up and prickles my skin, that transforms each thought into a sensual yearning, a carnal craving often too great to endure.

Yet once our bodies touch, once we come together, every kiss, every taste, every caress, every thrust of hips and stroke of hot hard perfecting flesh feels inexplicably new and unknown, feels just like home, feels right, so right to be here with you again, lips pressed in softly, limbs entwined, the two of us exhausted from our love making listening to the sounds of the twilight and the day shutting itself in to settle into night, to settle into darkness and an enveloping embrace that closes the gulf, that erases the space, our time apart, that brings me back to the place I truly belong.

(Remember to knock on Osbasso’s door to see the return of all the gorgeous HNT players…)

You speak the force of your desire
And leave me breathless
Gasping, desperate
To indulge your flesh

There’s something you need to know…

I care little for your ruin. In fact, it’s the very thing I want to secure.

I want to spend, devour and break you. I want to feast on your flesh, leaving nothing for another. I want to strip away every vestige of your self-control.

I want to stroke your shaft, feel the weight of your thickening and hardening glans, your flesh throbbing, insistent, incessant, my thumb smearing the first pearl of precum across your burnished head, my soft mouth following suit to envelope you, savour you, suck you until I feel the first surge of your seed glossing my lips, my tongue.

I want to entwine my fingers around your naked cock, part the plump lips of my sex and feed you into my sodden cunt with an aching slowness that will leave you begging for swiftness, pleading for the knowledge of my pulsing depths.

I want to fuck you with a languid sensuality, with fire and anger and urgency, my lithe body arching above you as I feel your come erupting violently inside me, coating the velvet of my cunt with its slickness, as I clutch at you, milking every last precious drop, as I orgasm over and again hotly over your cock.

I want to kiss your mouth, inhale your breath, swallow your groan, my whispered name, your wanton words.

I want to leave you a shivering mess.

But more than this, I want – need – your crazed passion, the intensity of your lust to rise up, to scream though your skin, to exact its own revenge upon me, to tear my desire for you to shreds, to crush me by the same pitiless means, annihilating this hunger, this craving for good.

It is in softness I bloom, shrouded in your flesh, beneath your body, inside your touch, in your breath and your lingering kiss, as your hands ease me down, draw me out, unravel this desire, as your lips trace and savour the silken arching line, as your hardness slides into my succulence, as my scarlet sex drips its ache, its want, its honeyed heat onto the bronzed glow of your skin.

Day breaks and with it another season and the light and the heat pierce with a force that has me rising up to meet them, to join with them my own ignited flesh, the skin prickled with the fine sheen that has me gleaming, the body shivering with the intensity that once easily drew you in, the body insistent on its yearning even as the mind vows to thwart and forget, the hands that reach for you in the spaces now vacant beside me, the arms that clutch, that hold, that touch the woman in your absence, your name a whisper on her lips, in the ether a roar.

Come
Touch me
Taste me
Bathe me
In your white

It is in the nocturne’s quiet, in its deepest, darkest shadows that I feel you, sense you near, that I crave your approach, surrender willingly to your presence, to the urgency of your lust as you weave your fingers through these tousled curls and your kiss finds the perfumed arc of my neck, as your mouth pressed against my ear hotly whispers I am yours alone to keep and take, as your hands glide along my curves, as they bend me forward at the waist, as they ease me wide apart, your gaze transfixed by the aching gleam between my thighs, my body pushing back to meet you, silently pleading for the carnal, the sensual, the intensity promised in your touch, silently pleading for its annihilation, its rebirth at your hand and your insatiable flesh.

Even though we have never met, even though my kiss has never lingered upon your mouth, even though my fingers have never caressed your naked flesh, I greet the dawn aching for you, aching to find you, aching to press my body into yours, aching for the softness and the violence born of this passionate need, aching to give myself completely, to indulge you absolutely, to be the woman you long to hold, the woman whose complexities you will eagerly embrace, the light and shade, my push and pull, the urgency, impatience, the imperfections that have driven others away.

But more than this, I ache today for hope’s return, for the faith, for the belief that you are out there, somewhere, waiting for me.