And Just When You Think

After

After. After he is gone. After the three orgasms. After more than you imagined when you whispered what you wanted, After the amazement and the fear and almost pain of too much pleasure. After the hours of holding in the wake of it all. After you come to your senses and understand just how taken you were, you gather what is left of your clothes and come back. Held. Holding. The softest beg in your voice. "What can I do to thank you?" Yes. You are the perfect lover.

After It All

After it all. The night. The taking.

The fantasy and madness.

The beyond expectations and in some cases,

Imagination. After your heart’s wildness,

The heaving breath. The throat sore from cries.

The marks.

After there is no one left but you and I

And the messy memory of our hours

And orgasms. After it all, there is this.

You in my shirt. A cup of tea.

My arms open to hold you

As long as you need to let it all sink in,

Allowing lust to become love

And memory,

and the certainty of more.

By the Time I am Sated

Ah, the time I will take with you. Your arms tied high. Your legs spread. Dressed in nothing but heels and a collar. Teetering. Exposed. Unsure where you are, only that for the next few hours, every square inch of your body will be touched. At times softly. At times roughly. Your body mine, and by the time I am sated, your soul as well.

After the First One

There is a point, after the first one, the line crossed, the fantasy lived, your spirit and body pushed past what you imagined you would ever do.

There is a moment, when you are in my arms in the afterward, that you realize what you have done, and that you have become that rarity, a woman who is willing to live what you want, take it, be taken, the first border breached and you realize

that the first wall is always the hardest, and the next one, and oh yes, there will be a next one, is inevitable, for you are not the same woman as you were. And never will be again.

=================

If you have ever been pushed past what you thought were your boundaries sexually, you know.

Hi, send me a private message

Reach out any time.

Nothing Close to mine

Dressed less. Showing more each time I take you out. Feeling eyes on you. Feeling the hunger of strange men, rabid, wild, but nothing close to mine.

Dangerous

I always believe beyond the odds, the time, the distance, that the fantasies we dream have space to become reality. Too many already have for me to think otherwise.

And that is what makes every moment we are together dangerous.

I am slowly finding the poems I lost in the Tumblr purge of my former site.

Serve Me.

Serve me.  Indulge my every whim and desire.  Give yourself to my pleasure,  and I will give myself to yours. 

The Best of Lessons

It is the best of lessons, the more fucked out I leave you, the more the surrender. the more desperate the need to please. And what man could want more than that perfect desperation from his perfect woman?

A Different Kind of Art.

Stop. Just like that. Let me admire you a moment. Each curve. The position of submission. A moment of perfection before the passion is unleashed and you are made a different kind of art.