Pluck my strings
And transform me into your instrument of longing.
Play me like your fiddle,
And make me reel and tremble as you conjure music with my moans.
Compose me like a salacious symphony,
Edge me towards a frenzied crescendo
Of cacophonous exclamation,
And pluck me until I deconstruct
Into single notes of pure tone and spent ecstacy.
Let’s not rush
Towards cold wet pavement
And packed buses
And loud ceiling lights
And the vexing modernity
Pushing against the door
And pounding on the windows.
Crawl back under the sheets
And get lost once more,
In my flesh and yours,
Which is one and the same.
Stay with me a little while longer.
Then we can worry about being brave
And conquering a world
We have no desire to actually conquer.
It wants you
Cumming to pieces
And coating my tongue
In ejaculatory exclamations
Play my curves like a cello
And pluck my strings
Until I am jello
I want to feel your lips
And your nails
Up the length of my legs
Until you reach the sheathed apex
Of my mountainous desire.
Recline next to me
And forget what day it is
For a fleeting moment
Until I am overflowing
Pouring over the edge
Rushing like ravenous melt water
Through caverns and crevices not able to subdue
The Flow of Us
I feel pink
In places everyone can see
And in darker, unseen places too
In places damp with anticipation
In places oozing wet love
In places only meant
And for Me
Let me sprawl before you
Like a waking city scape
Smeared in a reddish sunrise glow
And a steamy haze only now lifting
From the night before.
Dip your fingers in my honey pot,
And you will see how sun-ensouled nectar drips from your digits like a viscous melody.
You will see my undulations beckon you to a second helping
Of unhinged longing and glee,
Long held captive by gates of goose-pimpled flesh and opaque black fibre.
I scribbled this masturbatory poem almost 2 years ago and nearly forgot about it. I doctored it a bit as time away from one’s own written word demands revision. I am sure I could have been figurative in my approach… but I am not feeling particularly subtle or figurative today.
Without further ado….
The bed below my ass gives every time I roll my hips down into it.
My glistening nodule, buried beneath fluttering folds of juicy wet flesh, tingles with every thrust upward.
My fingers quiver with want as they claw my inner thighs, leaving wanton red scrapes, almost breaking the skin.
My index and middle fingers form an inverted ‘V’ over my vulva, pinching and releasing my outer lips until my clitoris swells and hardens.
Fingers circling that sweet pearl of ecstacy like bees around the honey pot.
It will only take minutes at this point until I wholly unravel, burst into flames and leave this confining dimension for a few fleeting moments of breathless eternity.
I am above,
And you below,
Feeling you through me.
Your pounding heartbeat translating through your lips,
And climbing up my loins, my womb, my belly,
Until it reaches my heart,
And twins the pace of the throbbing, quaking machinedrum embedded in my chest.
I am below,
And you above.
Fill me with sprouting seed
Until emerald tendrils creep out of my fractaled folds,
And wrap around my writhing limbs.
A wellspring of verdant splendour sprays in abundant profusion from my insides:
Ivy leaves, lotus buds and lily pads,
Along with the brackish mire of the shadows,
Pour out as if I were a mountain
Holding untold secrets
Of darkness and light.
I have never really been big into lingerie. But in recent years, I have been developing a keen interest. I do not collect lingerie by any means, but have a few select items that I enjoy both with my partner and on my own.
In actuality, I am much more of a black thong and fishnet stockings kinda gal. I definitely want a garter belt though. That’s just what’s missing from my life.
I don’t want to go out there yet.
My soul wants solace and silence,
And hands and tongues and grabbing and moaning.
And candle light.
Not that light freezing drizzle out there.
Monday… it’s here.
Let’s kill it dead.
I wear fishnet for me. If you see me in them, and it turns you on, just know that I turned me on first.
Most words escape me today.
I am pure desire.
I am a gushing cavern of secrets and darkness kissed by Light.
I want to feel my insides on the outside,
And split myself in two for the divine purpose of sacred communion.
What is rend apart is rejoined into One.
I am You and You are Me,
And we are lost in the magnetic moon-pulled waves of Us.
You erect soaring temples inside me,
And deconstruct them in a single ravenous squall.
And lightning issues violent lashes within my folds as you plunge into my unfathomable depths.
Hips rolling into yours like a famished ocean wave clawing up the beach
Before being dragged back into itself.
I am all warm around you,
Can’t you feel me?
Ebbing and flowing up your cock like your belly is the moon,
And my cunt is the sea.