Monthly Archives: November 2013

In her memory

There was a moment
in the pit of his soul
he knows it
Surely his memory
wouldn’t be
evil enough to betray him

There was a time
in the beat of his heart
he feels it
Surely his mind
couldn’t be
so cruelly playing him

There was a breath
shared between lovers
he can taste it
as if it never left
as if he’s not taken one since
as if there’s nothing
but that single
lingering
longing
loving breath
Surely his lips
shouldn’t be
savouring
her sweet flavour
if she
never
even breathed

There was a picture
of desperate perfection
taken by her hand
at his command
Thank fuck
he yelled
as he fell
to the ground
Burying
his whole self
in her
memory

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Sundays escapades

The brink of winter found our bodies wrapped beneath layers of heavy warmth. Our fingers almost ached as their tight link was strained by woolen gloves, but there was no way I’d ever let go. Frosted breath escaped in puffs of laughter as he teased me about our afternoons sexual escapade. My blush faded in the darkness of the lightly dusked haze, but he knew it rose, as I knew his cock would be twitching at the memories we’d just made.

A Sunday morning lazily wasted with too many coffees and bare breasted poetry read. He likes my nails lacing their way through his curly tufts as he reads to me words of wondrous lust. Sundays were our favourite, each breath unplanned, spontaneous.
‘Let’s go to the movies’
His voice barely heard, yet the depth reverberating through my chest resting ear.
‘Oh yes please’ I almost squealed, as I straddled his lounging lap, covering his smile with kisses.
We showered together, it wasn’t a written rule yet a Sunday treat that seemed to be our constant.
He washed my entire body clean, with suds of coconut milk, then fucked my screams into steam, before allowing me to lather him, touch him, cover him with my sated adoration.
We made it to the movies, barely.
Scents of buttered popcorn wafted through the door he held open. My mouth watered, I’m not entirely sure if it was from the bursting smell, or his fingers resting on the nape of my neck as he followed my sway through the door. Either way, my body ached, in elation.
The countryside theatre was a bit of a drive, but the only one he enjoyed visiting. A quaint little building, with a welcoming warmth that the cities cinemas never matched. Just more than a few rows of burgundy upholstered seats had us find our comfort, not quite the back, but centered to the heavily draped screen.
My eyes slowly scanning the company we’d be sharing time with, pleased to see only a scattering of matured couples, softly conversing as the lights slowly dimmed.
The chairs either side of us wore our coats, gloves and scarves in wait to once again be adorned when our momentary reprieve from winters freeze ended. Until then, my bare fingers danced along the insides of his thighs, as his did mine. Both of us finding the source of heat simultaneously, we sheepishly grinned into a deeply devouring kiss. Our tongues danced to the tune of the opening scene, which left the next too, to be left unseen.
His whiskers scratch so evocatively over my greedy claim of his intoxicating flavour. My busy fingers freeing him from being restrained, wrapping his pulsating shaft in my friction heated palm. Long, slow strokes, rolling my thumb around his helmet, had his twitch spark my swift depart from his hungry lips.
I slid myself down, resting between his parted knees, he shifted in his seat, just enough for his throbbing need to be completely available for me to play.
Desperate to take him deeply, my lips wrapped loosely as he reached beyond my teeth, into my moan. His fingers finding themselves tangling tendrils of hair, his cock was my game, his hot cum, my prize.

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I slowed, a lifted gaze as I rose, circling, curling my tongue with licks and flicks to his low groans.
‘Shhhhhh’ came a complaint from a lower row.
A firm hand grip had me forced into ‘don’t fucking stop’ mode.
My pussy clenched in a frenzy of thrilling spills, gliding my fingers between my moistened folds, I lifted them and smeared my arousal, for his tongue to taste and savour.
‘Be quiet!’ Another voice scoffed.
As he tossed his head back in an attempt to ease his heaving throat.
His heavy balls contracting in my massaging hand, my long twisting strokes beckoning his spill. He filled my mouth, with pumping jets of tangy cream that followed my swallows with mirrored urgency of my need to drain his every last drop. He gave me his all, and I took my reward with perhaps a little too much pleasure, as our hushed exit was expected with a brightly intruding spotlighted escort.

‘Maybe we should see a movie again next Sunday’ his tone oozing with sarcasm.
‘Let’s’ I replied, leaning in to kiss his smirk, letting him taste remnants of our Sunday cinematic escapade from my perfectly swollen lips.

Love, is the key

She’d been hurt
burnt bridges
to ease pains
She’d been locking
away her truths
scattering them
upon deserted paths
along the way

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A cavernous heart
curling inwards
had her fetal rock
find depths
claiming her flame
no more turns
she met
lock down

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Drowning
in self doubt
spirals of storm clouds
enveloped
wringing each breath
with sublime regret
Time dangled
unlocking her essence

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The key
to her very existence
rested sweetly
upon lips of need
Her fading beat
deeply frozen
by greedy shallows
slowly heated
with intensity
as she heard
finally
her soul
beckoning freedom

Love
is the key

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Their letters

Their letters
were more than mere syllables
formed into words
creating intoxicating verses
They were all they had
All they were

So they penned
their bleeding souls
reading each others worlds
through eyes of crossed T’s
and love heart dotted I’s

Their letters
were scribed with indelible ink
sinking beneath the flesh
encasing their souls
embracing fears
chasing fantasies
They were all they had
All they were

So they wrote
their laughing hearts
until their tears stained
each coveted parchment
the pain of separation to blame

Their letters
became the bed they made
the ink their liquid blanket
Distance crossed out all the tease
they needed to see
to read between the lines
to be reflected
in each others eyes

They were all they had
All they were

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