Flames Of Love

He holds me close, whispers endearments against my parted lips.
A wall of flesh brushes against me, pushes the limits of my
endurance. He plunges and climbs, flows back like a rogue wave,
waxes and wanes in torturous reckoning. I press fully, mesmerized
by his smooth texture, the way his manhood treads a measure in calm

I can feel his soul kiss, each warm tingle it extracts from my passage
imparting momentum like a hot desert wind. The roseate glow of dawn
reflects in his eyes, blessings bestowed upon me in their secret.
There is power in his kiss, in his incursion, in his head of steam. I
harmonize with him, mirror the catalyst.

Our bodies fuse turbulently, seige in battlement, well-structured castles thrumming as we evolve to eternalize blessedness. We draw to a peak with
cohesion, on and on crossing of paths devouring thunder, the lustful eyes
of my king.

Ghosting Over The Water

His smooth voice inspires misty nights and jasmine
scented air, an atmosphere relaxed and offbeat with
mellow jazz and daydreaming. The shore is dimly
lit, in lascivious disarray with scattered garments
and underclothes. My ears drink in his mellow voice,
his soft whisper.

His hungry eyes centered on my breasts, his erection
a thing of beauty towering from a forest of umber
strands. He is real, rough, unrestrained, immersed
deep and stays suspended. That reckless fire, thief
of hearts. He dives as soon as I unveil her. Tempest
in his touch makes her weep.

Pleasure In The Petals

He brings me the moonlight, its pale shadow filtered through the open
window drapes, takes me down gently upon the braided rug in easy momentum.
The light of the eastern sky bathes the cottage in an eerie luminescence,
making our tryst truly breathtaking. A mutual feast on wet cluster and
turgid sinew.

A unified banquet in the bush applying pressure, enlivening me with hot-blooded shivers. Satin intertexture’s gossamer helix dances against his full lips while
his circuit heaves full-tilt on my hollow, ascends the rostrum to savage pleasure.


I nestle between his thighs, seek comfort in his body heat. Monsoon
aura relinquishing control, bridging the fleshly tides. Supple limbs
drifting in sweet discovery. I render him hard, untether the last
vestige of control. Restless longing for release. Liberty in tranquility sustains for a cruel length of time. On the boil voracity drumming, laying seige to his brawn. He takes solace in my embrace, slows down in sleepiness.
Unhurried grind against me makes a promise of return.

A Wild Of Sand

We trudge hand in hand foraging wistfully, drive candlesticks
into glass sconces. Moonbeams shadow our steps, chameleonlike
in their radiance, beautifully spooky on the fringe of sunset. Wave
crest breaks on the shoreline, wild and angry froth committed
to romantic upheavel. We carry lighters to each wick,
allocate indistinct light inverting the moon’s luminescence,
romantacize the bounding main, the crashing whitecaps
at our feet.

His body pillows me inside the strand, arms bolster my
body as if it is a delicate tiger lily, bodies responding with
softness, in lustful tundra of renewal. He kisses me hard,
pulls me flush against his wet body. The air is rich with our
hushed voices, with the pungent scent of sea water.

I luxuriate in his mysterious travel upon my sheathe, in a
melange of drifting clothes returning to the edge greeting
glowing moist skin. His shaft impales me, invades my
tight core, performs carnal witchcraft. Hot, breezy wild
night, prurient wanton perimeters, breathlessness fused
with the wind. We are barbarous and rough, ragged bliss
dwelling unbroken in sweeping thrust undeniably ravenous.

Magic In The Wind

My skin glows with sweat, a blush that creeps along my cheeks in full view. I feast my eyes on his golden-brown skin, welcome his eagerness, his hunger for the unattainable forbidden fruit. He taunts me with mincing steps, with his brawny, fully-dressed frame. His moist lips baits me with well-placed kisses on my breasts, wraps me in moon-drenched spiral, a serpentine desert wind metamorphosed into an obliging wilderness fox. Tentative kisses search for that sweet spot that will send me over the edge. He throbs between my legs, imparts the rigid Mount Hood. I climb the altar stairs to ecstasy, intern him like a venus flytrap, release the strands that he grooves on.

The Captured King

I stand shamelessly naked before my king, my nipples perky from the brush of the silky fabric against my sensitive flesh. My womanhood throbs with life, hot as a three-dollar pistol. My purple nightgown pools around my feet, slips along my jewel-covered ankles. He holds me transfixed with passion untamed on this lover’s quest. Beautiful hothouse flower with sunlight on his naked skin, the perfect timbre in his voice. He sighs against my womanhood, spreads my exquisite folds, claims it.