2.33. He Kissed Me

And I felt like putty

Like the sky at 7:53am on a Tuesday while Bob Marley played in someones car…”No woman no cry.”

Like an empty bottle of creamy baby oil left atop an unused counter…waiting

Like a cool bottle of wine, uncorked but owned

Like a valley unpaved by mankind.

He kissed me 

And I felt like an orgasmic tigress

An unleashed heathen

A closeted slut

A pornographic master

A willing submissive

An intrigued Dom

Waiting Prey

The hungry predator.

He kissed me 

And floodgates opened

Unfaked

Unprecedented

Untouchable

Unknown

Unsure

Unleashed

Lips to lips

Exhales

Lips to throat

Inhales

Palms to palms pressed, fiercely, against cold brick

Lips to chest

Whimpers

Dreaming

Pleading

He kissed me

With every intent of staying

And fleeing

Gasping for more

My oxygen in his lungs

My everything in his hands

My world in his words

Anywhere

Anytime

He kissed me

And I was something else

Someone else

A vixen

A kitten

A little bit of both

A culmination of what shouldn’t be and what had to be

Lips to stomach

Staring at the back of eyelids

Familiarizing scents and tastes

Tongues sway

Linger

Hover

Lips to inner thigh

He kissed me 

And I watched him beg

To feel pretty lips

Below the hips

For one thrust

One drink

One…

One…

One…

1.196 – For Your Cuntsumption

~
I want sex
Without the skin
Ten thousand brush strokes
when fingertips
become pens
gracing the pages of your…

Ten thousand
musical notes
flowing from lips
in baratone moans
strumming at the strings of my…

Ten thousand ways to say
those words of longing
in deafoning silence
with eyes clenched shut
and thighs pried open
I am braille
you are blind
Read me…

Ten thousand
layers of icing
decadent and sweet
because I love the taste of your…

Ten thousand ways to
come…
closer
deeper still
into untouched waves
crashing on the shore
that is my…

Ten thousand hues
to explore
through bites and scratches
smacks of the perfect measure
the prettiest ruptures of skin
I am your canvas
you hold the brush
paint me…

I want the sex
without the skin
above me
below me
within me
as I touch…
those words come

endless convulsions
spastic explosions
admiring you from every angle
as I watch…
those words come

Sweat and saliva
sex
covering us like silk sheets
As I inhale…
those words come

Everything you want
sent to me on petals
of grunts and moans
through clenched teeth
travelling on orgasmic whimpers
As I listen…
those words come

Licking my lips
through each smirk
insatiable thirst intensifies
because of your…
As I taste…
the words come

Ten thousand triggers
to the senses
As tongues embrace and bodies
collide…

Ten thousand
words against your skin
chapter upon chapter
of gasps and heaves
panting through perpetual
bliss in every stroke…
of a tongue

Ten thousand
droplets…of rain
immerse me
and I am humbled
feeling ecstasy cum
through and through and through

Ten thousand
flavors for your
cuntsumption
layers of buttery velvet streaming
like music

Ten thousand
screaming banshees
consumed by the need
to return the savagery

Ten thousand
oceanic waves
surging over the course of my…

As I slip into
your…
and we soar intertwined

Ten thousand
ways to call your name silently
to watch you shake uncontrollably
as brick turns to
clay in your hands

Ten thousand
burning embers
as I am your…
and you are my…
and the words come…

I want sex
without the skin
~

1.195 – When She Has You

~Your hand tightens in her hair, almost jerking her head to the side, but she grasps at your arm before she will give you such control. Because it isnt your turn…not tonight.

~Sweet nothings shared like music as she becomes like putty in your hands, almost losing focus of where she wanted to take you, her delicate frail form becoming apparent now. How could she resist? Instead, she thrusts her body tight against you, her breasts becoming one with your chest, her tongue lathering yours in her much needed attempt to stay in control. She could ask herself, where are we, outside or in, near or far but it mattered not for our bodies could be anywhere so long as we are one…

“We are are everywhere yet nowhere all at once.”

~A giggle strokes her, trickling over every aroused sense, like waterfalls against her skinless, limitless force, like prayer for a soul. She is soothed. And she wonders of you so occupying her mouth, unable momentarily to explain, to continue but she knows that she doesnt even really have to. As no one would get it but you. How she wants it, likes it so, needs it all the more. Because she wants it all and then some. Because the body can only fuck for so long. And she is, in this paused climactic moment, one of her own doing, yet knowing you have driven her to this said place of nonexistant yet perpetual bliss, she is your damsel, whisked away in your arms from strikes of tyranny.

“Open your eyes Love, see it all with me. Swallow me in the structure of your build, as I am safe right here with you, trust in your intentions. Because you didnt know Papi…yet you still wanted to. Could you possibly comprehend what you mean to me, what you do to the most forbidden parts of me? I would say you have no idea. And I want to ravish you right in this moment, to take what is mine, all mine, to show you just how you make volcanos erupt and falcons soar and suns rise..but that would ruin the structure we’ve made here tonight. Savour it love, anticipate, wait for it.”

~She removes any garments so standing in her way, just the right motion, in just the right direction and bliss would be present, orgasmic transactions, to give, to take, to take some more and then give ten fold. She reads your body again and again, the best kept secret, the scribe that should have been read, she raises herself onto her knees, her bosom heaving just inches from your face, she looks down into your eyes, the flicker making her want to drop her hips down against you all the more, to fulfill and be filled in one greedy stroke. But patience is a virtue and her certainty of how far and wide you will go cannot be overshadowed by her lust.

1.120 – Keep Your VDay

Every year, just about this time, flower shops are flooded with last minute orders, boxed chocolates are flying off the shelves, hallmark is selling out sappy ass sayings, and diamonds glisten as they are set into an abundance of settings. On the flipside – Victoria Secret and every other lingerie chain is swarming with anxious woman.

Yes, I’m one of those people who highly dislikes Valentines Day. I disliked it growing up, I disliked it through the two years of courtship that led to six years of marriage. I dislike it as a single woman and I will, undoubtedly, dislike it as a grown ass spinster.

Lets be real – Valentines Day is a glorified day of prostitution. Guys cough up money for chocolates, flowers, cards, teddy bears, jewelry, and expensive dinners. In turn, women slip on the slinky undergarments (or go without them), the high heels, the skimpy attire, get into beauty mode, and turn into the tigress of her mans dreams.

Fair trade?

Maybe.

But not really.

Are we so fucking programmed that a man can’t do for his woman unless a date is set? Why is the value of a mans love measured in the expense of some shit the girl will care less about this time next year?

Are we so fucking programmed that a woman can’t be a sexual, primal temptress without bribery? She can’t tell if her man cares 364 days of the year? She cant want to be his Aphrodite…just because?

I know guys who will only treat their woman like the queen that she is on Februrary 14th because the world tells him to – instead of showing gratitude, adoration, honor and loyalty all year round.

I know girls who save sexual positions solely for anniversaries, birthdays and Valentines Day. REALLY?

I’m serious about this…For reals reals?

Screw Valentines Day. Magic lives outside of a box on the calendar. He will run a bath for her because he knows the days been hard. He will bring her orchids because he knows she hates roses. He will create something for her because diamonds are not every girls best friend. He will take her to a chill spot with a live acoustic band while they share divine niblets of various cuisines because he knows pretentious “high-end” restaurants make her nervous. He will leave post it’s reminding her of their love the morning after a fight. He will touch her like she is the softest of clay, the smoothest of glass, the swell of her inner thighs being the most precious divine inspiration to have ever blessed his shoulder blades.  He will make her turn into a waterfall with a whisper and rage like fire with a growl. He will be lathered in masculinity, romance, artistic intuition and a charisma in his nervous banter that could never be matched by a perfectly penned card.

Screw Valentines Day. Magic lives outside of a box on the calendar. She will listen to him as he banters on about nothing, massaging him from head to toe. She will stimulate his funny bone, his heart, his soul when she puts aside all of her qualms and truthfully attempts to understand his passions. She will seduce him with her eyes, her lips, the mystery in her smile from across the dinner table…as if it were the first glance. She will remind him why he is her puzzle piece. She will say thank you for being the man that you are…because he needs to hear that truth. She will be his lady in the streets and his freak in daydreams because what she did to his body in between the sheets was that fucking delicious.

They will relish in one another’s magnificence every day, all day. They will listen to the silence between them. They will laugh at themselves and put down all guards and laugh wholeheartedly. They will bask in the reasons chemistry and magic make everyone’s Vday seem like their October 7th. They will be a power couple – spiritually entwined, mentally erotic, emotionally fused, physically drawn, universally recognized as two stars living amongst us.

I want that. So keep your Valentines Day one act. I want the entire performance. Encore. Encore. Encore.

1.97 – The Door

An erotic piece inspired by a dream.

If you can see it – I’ve done my job. 

She’d heard him before he’d come in, anxious to see his face and simultaneously terrified. There had been no hesitation in his voice when he’d told her the hotel address or the room number. The key had been at the desk just as he’d said. She knew he wouldnt be there when she arrived, his tone made that very clear.

There had never been a moment of fear and yet her heart pounded as the doorknob turned. Moving toward the edge of the bed, she couldnt take her eyes off the handle, twisting as if in slow motion. The lights were off on purpose. Buying just seconds, her eyes had already adjusted whereas he would still be used to the sun. This was to her advantage – to assess him without knowing though she was sure he’d figure it out.

The door opened and he stepped in; she gnawed at her lip. She’d spent the hour alone walking the length of the room, staring at the bed he’d slept in for many nights before her intrusion. Her fingers touched everything in sight, her mind racing, wondering if she was tracing anywhere his hands had been. The last thing she’d touched was the bed.

As he latched the door, the panic gathered in the pit of her stomach. Would he be able to tell that she’d layed under the sheets? Would he smell the sex in the air, knowing exactly what she’d done just moments ago? Mentally scolding herself, she watched him turn, brushing her feet against the ugliest carpet she’d ever seen.

He stood there, just a few steps into the room, light peaking in through the blinds showing just a hint of his face, his silhoutte made even more tempting by the sound of his breathing. She would swear she could see just the hint of a smile. Bruising her lip, she was frozen but felt parts starting to melt. He turned his back to her, removing the jacket he wore and hung it over the back of a chair. Her eyes travelled over him from head to toe, he paused, aimlessly smoothing the fabric of his shirt.

His voice broke the silence, sending shivers down her back, “Couldnt wait, could you?” Before she could stop herself, she heard the giggle and covered her face from the heat. Dropping her hands slowly, she looked toward the bathroom. The door was partially opened and she told herself she could hide in there until he grew tired of waiting, perhaps falling asleep. As if reading her thoughts, he turned around, crossing his arms, leaning to one side, he cocked his head and looked at the door then back at the girl. Their eyes met and the look he gave was unmistakable. It screamed three words, making her pulse quicken and her palms sweat; “I dare you.”

Without missing a beat, they both jetted for the door, her advantage being that she was use to the dark, she beat him and slammed it shut behind her. She could feel the thud of his body on the other side as she pressed her back against the wood. He didnt push, but she knew he was there. Something told her she didnt have to lock the door, he would wait until she was ready to turn the knob.

The girl closed her eyes for a moment, thinking about why she’d come, only to put a barrier between them. Wanting that man and yet pleasing herself without him even being close. And yet he was, her hands have never been her own as long as she’d known him. A minute could have been thirty, thirty could have been a minute while she breathed in the dark. His breath was hushed as their lungs were perfectly in sync, every inhale and exhale in complete unison.

Listening closely, his hand moved over the door, as if he were trying to feel her, his voice came in raspy whispers, torturing her at his will. “I’m not going to ask you to open this door. I’m not even going to ask what you’re doing behind it. I’ll only ask of you one thing…”

And she wanted him to keep talking, to hear his voice move over her, through her until her hands wouldn’t  stay still. She tried to swallow but her mouth had run dry, hanging open in desperate attempts to catch air. She nodded, knowing he couldnt see this, her hand flicked at the door, her knuckles sending a soft knock to tell him she was still there.

“I want you to listen.”

And then he was quiet but she knew before she knew. Pressing her teeth into her lip, she turned until her forehead pressed against the wood, her hands dropped over her breasts, one planting itself on the door…the other hanging just above her skirt.

She was already a wicked mess, rubbing her thighs together, ever tempted to break down the barrier and devour him. But she knew she wouldn’t. Couldn’t. As much as every inch of her wanted to relieve the ache of wanting to feel this mans body pressed roughly to hers, every inch wanted the ache to last a lifetime, this painful torture he gifted her with by saying everything and nothing at all. She could hear him undo his belt, moving his hand over his groin, the digging of his other hand into the door. Piercing her lip, her fingers dipped between her legs, finding a soft slick honey.

Inhaling sharply, forgetting to stifle herself, pressing her head harder against the door, the palm of her other hand pressing fevereshly on the same. She could hear his smile as if he were screaming. His hands clawing down her back as they had so many nights before, his tongue circling over her nipples while his eyes stared up at her longingly. Those eyes, no matter how many times she tried to press her own shut, to lock them out, there they were, coaxing her to touch just a little deeper. Pushing her fingers further, she exhaled the softest moan and blushed at his reply.

His tongue rolling against the roof of his mouth, a pronounced purr eminated from his lips, his words hooking into her like one of her own fingers, delving deeper with each syllable; “I can taste you beautiful. All over my tongue and down my throat.” He spoke through clenched teeth, “I could watch those lips all day, could feel your tongue all night if you let me.” And she would because the thought alone of tasting him could make her earth shatter.

She’d memorized that pulsating twitch against the back of her throat until she could feel it simply on demand. He didnt speak and didnt have to. It is amazing, she thought, how hands can become tongues, mouths to be quenched through wooden doors.

How their hands could embody one another for a moment of delirious convulsions. His growls grew louder as she let herself moan and breathe freely. Streaked with sweat, they would go like this forever or until sleep deprivation or starvation prevailed. She held her breath, pushing her fingers deeply one last time before pulling them away and grabbing the door handle. His eyes met her instantly, his hands never skipping a beat, she stepped toward him, placing her wet hand in front of his lips.

Opening his mouth through a smirk, he lapped over her fingers. She brought her mouth to where her fingers had been, tasting herself with him for what felt like the first time, her hands replacing his with a cruelty only he could deserve. He spoke against her, his nails tearing her shirt away, “You didnt have to open the door.” 

She giggled, licking over his lips, his tongue and the roof of his mouth, where those purrs had lived momentarily. She continued pulling at him as her back slammed against the sink, his body pushing against hers. Replying would only endorse the obvious and so she said nothing. But his eyes said he understood.