Down the aisles
Like a singular
Glad heart to
A boil, as
I thaw at this sight...
...Of your Mambo in
Foxy bottom on
Moving like your on
Flushing up like a
As I bat a free
At your in concert
And your unequaled
My night dream!....
...Rising up from
Of a sensual
That I keep close
...All the droplets of
How I adore you!...
...Wishing that you'd
As my love has grown
And you chase back
Sweet treasure of
My love, and my
...What we shared
By Heart's language
sweetness and delight
take my breath away.
Fill our private moments
sweet nothings and nonsense.
Let your tongue speak sweetly
in the language of lovers,
tracing tingles and temptation along my lips.
uncover me slowly,
leaving the words to drift away;
let's explore our bodies and what they have to say.
I give myself to you unfettered,
bare, my naked truth
yearns for your touch, skin to skin. Nay,
I long for us to do what dreams
have danced within our fantasies
to make them real, tangible and felt
For us to drown our wet
swim in an ocean's agitation.
Feel your sea in me, coming in waves
let us sway and rock,
making love; all night long,
then sleep in spoons till morning rises
Let me drink from your fountain
Cover my lips with your sweetness
Dance upon my full blossom
Pour your elixir down on me
Make me shine and glisten
Look deep into my eyes
Speak your words with deep conviction
Let your lips spill my soul
Tour the landscape that is mine
Open the doors to the floodgates
Rise upon my pure passion
Each step this path takes
Rain soaks the warmth
Never will we look back
Forever we will drink our hearts
Yes pour your nectar on my lips
Take all of me in your grip
Over and over we will
Dance in the rain
Of your elixir
That I will find
She walked into the room and discovered that he was doing the dishes.
An excerpt from an article on sexiness by Janice Holly Booth: "For men who are looking to increase their sexual activity, it isn’t getting in shape or becoming a better conversationalist that offers the greatest likelihood for more lovemaking; it’s—astonishingly—marriage and household chores. Psychologist and couples expert John Gottman, Ph.D., has studied the effect of shared housework on a couple’s sexual frequency. When men contribute to housework and child care, Gottman observed, their partners see them as sexy, and they reap the benefits of that by having more sex than couples in which the men are chore-free."
That's what I'm talking about. Yessssssss.
The beat of ancient drums
The sounds of ancient flutes
Scantily clad in the sheerest
clothing, wearing chains and bells
I writhe in an alluring way
I dance with the Cobra
Our moves in sequence
I charm him he charms me
I feel his strength in ecstasy
As we sway to the rhythm the music calls
I look square into his eyes as I possess
Gently do I stroke and caress
Then with all his might, he jumps
at me and thrusts with all his fervor
Then he spits his venom at me
The music still playing exhausted are we
And the snake?
He could not resist my charms.
Endless (some of it)
Taking a deep breath of evening air I wandered into the herb garden, the heady scent of lavender, mint and thyme hung heavy, everywhere was still except for an owl up in the trees. I greeted him “Hello Mr Owl are you out to catch a mouse tonight,” I asked. Of course, it did not reply, it simply screeched and swooped landing in yet another tree. I left the herb garden and walked down the lane, I hadn´t planned to go far but it was such a lovely night. It wasn´t long before I found myself in the wood, so I decided to go and sit on the mossy rock by the stream.
I sat listening to the frogs calling to one another, I remembered how I´d sat there many times feeling alone as a child. It was such a serene place, before long I found myself feeling sleepy so I lay back on the rock as I´d done so many times before. I drifted off into a peaceful sleep; I began to dream of Anton.
I felt him walk up behind me, so I sat up. He whispered “My darling Eden I suspected you´d be here again” Gently he moved my hair off my shoulder and I felt the warmth of his breath on my neck. My body shivered with delight, gently he kissed my skin and it felt as though my whole body was going to melt away.
Then I felt one of his hands as it reached round and began to unbutton my nightgown, slowly he slipped his hand inside and cupped my breast. Passionately he kissed my neck; he worked his body round and kissed my face, his fingertips squeezing my nipple gently.
I kissed him hungrily and we lay back on the rock together, he unbuttoned my nightgown more and then I felt his mouth devouring my breasts, it was wonderful. I gripped at his head and tried to pull him back up to my mouth, but he was intent in staying where he was. I pulled at his shirt until he lifted it above his head, throwing it to the ground, his hard bare torso now in my hands.
We kissed more, and then once again he worked his way down to my breasts, this time I felt his hand go under my gown and on to my inner thigh. Before long, Anton’s hands were all over me and I could feel him touching places I dared not even touch myself.
Slowly he made his way down to my navel, I felt him lift my gown and he started greedily kissing my flesh. His frenzied mouth reached my vagina and did not stop, I felt his tongue inside of me and it was like nothing I´d ever felt before. I moaned with pleasure and sheer delight, I gripped at his back, pulling his mouth deeper inside of me.
As I did so I felt marks on his skin, long scars on his back, as soon as I touched them he reached up and returned my hands to his head. His tongue went in and out of me, deeper and deeper, my body convulsing repeatedly, until I felt a wave of energy throughout my entire being. He lapped at me and drank me up; I lay back exhausted and oddly ashamed at what my body had done. Then in my dream, I drifted off into a fatigued sleep.
When I awoke, I couldn´t believe what I´d dreamt, it had felt so real, my body felt different, I was soaked in perspiration, my hair dishevelled I looked down and to my surprise the buttons on my nightgown were indeed undone, I quickly did them back up.
Had I dreamt this I thought or had it happened? I tried to recall every second of my dream, it felt so real, but then I remembered how in my dream I had touched Anton’s back. I remembered the scars I had felt and I definitely did not recall seeing them that day at the mill. Therefore, it must have been a dream after all, a very vivid but enjoyable dream. Suddenly I began to feel ashamed once more and I picked myself up off the rock and scampered quickly back home.
How could a dream have been so real, I was so wet, my body still tingled, parts of me were still on fire, but I was certain Anton had no scars on his back? I´d watched him dress, and when I say watched I mean intently, his skin was perfect, like polished mahogany
There was only one explanation, hysteria; so obviously consumed with passion for Anton, I had actually imagined doing these disgraceful things with him. What sort of a lady was I? After all I´d said to Mary about minding her thoughts, I had fantasised things that were far more sinful.
Symphony of the Soul
You stand before me statuesque
Silhouetted in the moonlight
Your bare form a dark shadow
In the moonlit night air
I drink deep your intoxicating beauty
Then you raise your arms together
A slowly dance in a slow twirl
To some unheard music of the night
Beckoning to me to join you
In your nocturnal waltz of the moon
Together in the moonlight we dance
To music only we can hear
Your warm chest against my skin
Hard tips pressing in
My organ playing & dances to your music
A new tune of its own creation
Felt upon your soft form
The tickle of its keys
Looking in my eyes
Whirling around again
Dropping to your knees
To join this organ in its dance
There in the moonlight
All the stars watching
The organ plays into your hungry symphony hall
Suckling like a hungry baby
Upon a mothers breast
Concerns and stress melt away forgotten
Feeling safe and at home there
Relaxed at peace and very secure
This feeling is so right and pure
Your poetic expression on oral display
If only this singing could last all night and day
Why this act of love completes you
Perhaps you may never really know
But when this organ finally feeds you
There's a sense of gratification
Well being and satisfaction from head to toe
You are the musician and I your instrument
Playing upon this organ your musical pleasures
To play this instrument to its climax
Then feast upon the reward you treasure
Together we play our symphony
Composed together on this instrument of your pleasure
Singing a sweet refrain to treasure
Resounding chords in your throat
When you start to feel that climax approach
The moment those notes of pleasure hit your tongue
Is the moment you finally come
Until the flow of music is done
A symphony in oral pleasure
The music for every release
Beckons you onward to sing a refrain
An orgasmic symphony repeated in every release
Feast of Flesh
Abs glistening in sweat that roll like honey biscuits
Champagne tingles - you know where.
Banana curves and firm, juicy flesh
Hidden beneath the thin skin of a grape.
Skin soft like white dough
And smooth like neufchatel cheese
Grate it with your nails.
Scratch deep, hard, and savagely.
Taste the moist cake of my body.
Suck the salt from me
Drink deep. Swallow.
Crawl up over succulent
Thick, thick drumsticks
Reach past wishbone hips and
Pause . . . there, and
Caress the space between the hanging bones.
Make a wish. But push instead of pulling.
Lay me out on your table.
Grab, scratch, grasp, bite
Away the tablecloth.
At museums, they tell you not to touch.
There are no such rules in my kitchen.
Exhausted from my work day filled
With biting, pooping children killed
My libido until, while putting away clothes
I was reminded of my device, "I suppose,"
I whispered to myself, "I'll indulge my spot."
It didn't take long for it- and me- to get hot
I recalled my long neglected trigger zone
And sent shivers and shudders to every bone
I moaned at the ecstasy my interlude brought
About shopping lists, work day stresses I forgot
Dripping wet, my cheeks blushing pink
I washed my tool off in the bathroom sink
Once done, I finished organizing drawers
And resumed all my good wifely chores
Content in the knowledge C battery power
Is available to me at any stressful hour
Sensual Deprivation (or 5 Shades of...Nope)
"The idea is to enhance the senses through sensory deprivation."
"Isn't that an oxymoron?"
"A bit, but not really."
"Oh-kay," she looked at the handcuffs fastened to the bedpost. An exceptionally skeptical eyebrow raised.
"The concept requires an open mind.."
"I'll bite," Her arms crossed betraying the opposite of the attitude he was looking for, "explain."
"The earplugs and the blindfold take sound and sight, so the focus is purely on touch."
"Those two are pretty minor."
"If you say so.." she nodded questioningly towards the restraints.
"Those ensure touch is unidirectional," he said.
"No crossover between receptive and active."
"Okay," she considered the bed and the blindfold, "where's the open mind?"
She picked up the blindfold. "I assume you're experimenting only with enhancing the sense of touch of the receptive subject."
"That's a little wasteful of potential, don't you think?"
She shook her head at him. "If I understand correctly, you're working on the theory that when deprived of major senses that the others will enhance - like the blind becoming more aware of sound, et cetera..?"
She nodded. "That should do a bit," she blindfolded him, "but did you consider the enhancing effect some senses have for each other?"
He had no idea where she was headed with this, but his brain attempted to follow anyway. "Um," unfortunately, coherent thoughts got lost somewhere between skull and vocal cords.
"When you don't see anything, there may be a heightened sense of touch, granted, but what's the point if you can't move to make use of it?"
She took his hand to place it on her shoulder. "Wouldn't it be more interesting to feel the differences in texture from fabric" - she moved his hand along her t-shirt's sleeve - "to skin, et cetera?" She let go, allowing his hand to finish on its own at her fingertips before removing the cloth from his eyes.
He blinked at her, not sure about her unprecedented reaction.
"Then there's the factor of anticipation," she covered her own eyes.
"Anticipation," His voice parroted without consulting the mind when her hands found his collar and slowly began to unbutton his shirt.
"Right," she continued, "I have to stay in contact to not lose touch (pardon the pun) with what I'm trying to accomplish. But on the receiving end," she nudged him to sit on the side of the bed, "if you were immobile," he watched her blindly fasten a handcuff around his wrist, "you would be at the mercy of anticipation, the sight of my actions, and my sense of touch." Her hands never left his torso as they found and unbuckled his belt. His mouth went dry.
"Now imagine the application of the earplugs as well," she went on in that matter-of-fact way she used for all of her theories from dna-repair to, apparently, ideas of much more immediate interest.
"All your directions and attempts at dirty talk - or even mood-music would be lost on me, and I'd have to rely solely on touch.. You'd hear the belt hit the floor," the buckle dropped with a muffled thud onto the carpet.
"I'd still have scent," she whispered near his ear as her breath tickled along his neck. Her hands slipped into his pockets. He watched her tongue moisten her lips, completely distracted by her searching fingers.
"I'd still have taste.." His pulse rang in his ears. His free arm reached out of its own accord to encircle her waist.
Abruptly, she stepped out of reach, removing the blindfold. "I'd also have these," she dangled the handcuff keys triumphantly with the most evil little grin he had ever seen on a woman. His jaw dropped.
"Experiment with THAT," she placed the key next to his phone on the dresser, by the door. "See you later."
He stared after her as she walked away. Then he burst out laughing.