My Greatest Fantasy

I love when one of my poems from my deleted blog finds me!

For, Not To

You and I know.  There is no filth involved.  Not between us.  No matter what others would think,  every act,  no matter how it seems,  is done for,  not to. 

I love it when I find a poem from my deleted blog that I can repost to my new on. In this case the poem found me. A Reader from London refound me and shared two. Thank you!

Beyond Words

The knowledge that you will,  with or without bonds is intoxicating beyond words. 

Again

From across the room, I watch. I have seen you naked. I have seen you with walls. I have seen you unbridled, surrendered, wild. I have heard you cry out and heard you cry. Seen you bound and seen you free. And in all I have seen, I have loved you. And will love you still when I see you naked, no matter its form, again.

The Sounds of Darkness

You can sense things. Hear my footsteps, or at least you believe they are mine, believe you are safe even in the darkness.

But the longer you are in the dark, you become less sure. Others want you. You know this. And they might or might not fill you as I do. They may be too much or too little, too kind or too cruel. You have lived and loved enough to know the truth of it.

And so you wait. Hopeful. Afraid. Unsure. Until you hear my voice and feel my touch tender on your love bound skin. "I will love you. " "I will love you forever." And you know now, whatever the pain to come, you are safe. You are loved.

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.

The Only Thing I Measure

Forget all they told you. The only thing I measure is how much I love you, how long, and how.

Not Just Lust

You wipe the last drop of another man's cum, the fourth tonight, your lips uncertain, knowing I have watched each one take their pleasure with you, knowing I have seen your own pleasure with perfect strangers. Your eyes too, uncertain whether I will still want you, whether I feel the same as I felt a few hours ago, just as in love, just as passionate, the kind of passion we have always had, built on more than lust for your body, built on knowledge of who you are, needs, flaws, and glorious imperfections and even this, the dream finally fulfilled as I watch. You look up, waiting, and then, seeing.

No, my love. Nothing has changed as I wrap my fingers in your head and guide your puffy tender lips to my swollen shaft, eager to feel what they did not. Not just lust, love.

I Cannot Get Enough

I cannot get enough of you. Not for a lack of trying. Not for a lack of pushing you into your imagination where dreams and fantasies become, yes, real. Not for a lack of desire, which somehow only grows each time you are moved beyond what you believed possible. There are more ways to render you helplessly loved than one lifetime can hold; not that I won't try. And try again, slave to your moans and screams and the look of love in your eyes afterwards. Ah, that look. I cannot get enough.

Are you familiar with Literotica? If you are wanting a larger readership you may find it there.

I am, but I have to admit, I had not thought of them for a long time. Maybe I should submit a few things.

Soul Love

And after they are done with you. And after I am done with you and you are cut down. No one except the one who knows you best (Me) could ever understand why you would fall to your knees and thank me.