Thursday, September 27, 2012


Pretty baby, you are going to give me what I want.

Our last little encounter ended with my hands sliding down your waist, over your hips, to the small of your back before you had to pull away. For many reasons, I have been allowing you to make the moves. Your desire for me impels you to come find me, to offer furtive little kisses, to wrap your arms around me for the brief seconds we have together. I just eat up the idea that you are moved to take action.

In turn, I am compelled to focus my desirous impulses right here, for your reading pleasure. One caveat:  these yearnings will not remain flat and glued to this page. These yearnings are real, they are 3D, they are as alive as you or I, and I am so restless. My hasty liberty taking, that mere brush of my hands down your sides, left thoughts spinning in my head. Thought becomes action.

I hunger for you. I long to explore you, to run my hands over your skin, to skim my fingertips over the delicate hairs down your arms. Unbutton the next button on your shirt, let me see that little triangle of your undershirt peep through. Just that little glimpse of your skin stirs me. Leave the rest, I will unbutton them later. You should be sitting; I want to straddle you, your hips and thighs between mine.

When I brush gentle kisses from your ear, across your jaw, down your chest, know that I am driven crazy by the scent of your skin, aching for more. Feel my lips at your ear, teeth tugging at your lobe, biting, licking, teasing while I stroke my hands through your thick hair. Feel my softness pressed to yours, feel the building heat between us, feel the excitement in my chest. Feel the press of my fingers to your lips, fingertips pushing past your teeth to touch the wet heat of your mouth. Bite down, if you will, trap me within you. Let me push you back on the bed, and slide down to kneel between your thighs; I want to look up at you from my knees as I unbutton your shirt, pushing my hands against your soft skin. Do you want me to loosen your pants with my teeth? I can, you know.

I want to bite my way along your hips, the taste of your skin at my lips. Be patient, gorgeous one, there is a lot of skin to cover between the knee and that sexy junction of hip and thigh. I will take my time and seek out every inch of that delicate skin with my tongue and teeth before I am satisfied. I can't wait wrap my arms around your hips, bury my face against your thigh, and breathe you. I want your taste, I want to see how wet you'll get for me. I want to see your face flushed. I want to push my fingers inside you, I want to make you moan. I want to bury myself inside you and see if your sounds match the noises you make in my daydreams. Do you know how wet I am for you right now?

Monday, September 24, 2012


Sometimes I just want your arms around me.

Yes, sometimes your scent, your smile and your gorgeous good looks make me want to peel every inch of clothing from your body and cover you with my lips, but sometimes I just want the simple, sweet comfort of your arms. God I wish those melting in your arms moments did not have to end so quickly.

Wish wish wish. Want want want.

I live for the thought that you might one day drop by work and whisper in my ear a time and place.
Living with a naive hope is sometimes preferable to reality.

Sunday, September 23, 2012


Last night was bruising and I am so weary. The ins and outs, the rights and wrongs don't matter. I wish I had more time to process, but processing will not change what happened. There were many transgressions on both sides. How can you mend your own bruising when that energy is needed to soothe  another?

No one can remain strong incessantly. Caretaker that I am, I am so eternally thankful that when I needed to be weak I had someone there to be stronger than I. I am thankful for having such a good friend who provided a safe space and a nonjudgmental ear. As thankful as I am, I still wish it could have been you.

That brief embrace today, that limited touch of warmth against warmth, gave me enough to steel myself for what comes. I couldn't stay away, today of all days. I hope you don't mind.

Thank you for giving me what I needed, although you didn't know it at the time.

Friday, September 21, 2012

No holding back

You are so exquisitely irresistible! Can you tell when your words flush me with desire? Do you know that you could have had exactly what you wanted, right then and there, with no protest from me? I almost begged for it. I am begging. I think you like that.

I don't know how you can keep fighting this. Can you imagine how explosive we would be in a room alone together? With this raw energy between us, can you imagine? I can and that is why I keep pushing. This is not wrong.

Fuck me. Indulge for once. You know I want you. You know that anything you want goes. I won't protest. Caress me gently until I squirm and beg for more. Order me to do your bidding (hopefully something that involves my face planted between your thighs...) Let me have my way with you. I do not care what we do, as long as I get to kiss and touch and breathe you.

I have never been so subjugated, and it's endlessly funny to me that you never intended this domination. Here I am. I am yours. I'm spread before you, offering pleasure for the taking. Surely I must be tempting. Isn't it so much more fun to conquer those who will fight back?

Just say yes baby. You know you want my kisses. You know you want me to bite, tear, claw your passion to the surface. Say yes.

"Until I wrap myself inside your arms I cannot rest..."

Thursday, September 20, 2012


This is glorious. Swimming in sensuality, wallowing in it, feels beautiful. I've taken a good portion of the morning to indulge in blogs by women that I used to worship. Some, I find, washed away like I did and no longer write their signature blogs. Some left such an enormous backlog of writing that I can continue to swim for days in their intellect, lust, emotion. The connections astound me. I miss CityDifferent and wish I could find him. I hope AAG comes back. ...but Chelsea G. Summers knows Kim Boekbinder, knows Amanda Palmer, knows The Bloggess. I'm fascinated by the swirling talent. I wonder if Dangerous Lilly ever mentioned FairNine. Whatever happened to The Beautiful Kind? I miss my (few) connections to this underground little world. Am I brave enough to ever attend one of those conferences? Am I brave enough to meet these idols? Sometimes what I write is good enough. Sometimes I am a puddle of self-doubt.

The return feels good. I think I need to return to Twitter and cull half of my list so the other half will be visible. I yearn to reconnect. On another note...Ginger Slap is following my Twitter. Fangirl squee!!

Wednesday, September 19, 2012


I like surprises. I liked your little surprise for me earlier. So shocking, your fistful of my hair. So shocking, the surety with which you moved. Even thinking about it now makes me feel the same electric jolt you yanked from me earlier. I've never been more instantly aroused.
Even now, that jolt still pulses inside me. Even now I ache for you.

When I lightly trail fingertips down my neck, I imagine your lips tracing those lines. When my hands slid down to cup firm breasts, thumb gliding over nipple, tickling, sending waves of arousal down deep...they should be your hands. The fingers dipping along my hips are your fingers, thumbs poised to press those tender spots, hands grasping me to you like they did this morning, forcefully. I need your teeth, your mouth. In my mind, you bite your way down my body, nipping my thighs, teasing. I need you to spread my hips broadly. Pin me. I can't help but to push my hips against you, wrap my legs around you, sigh and breathe deeply. I can't help grinding against you, every small pressure increasing the desire within. With your (my) fingers finally pushed inside, I'm riding those deep shocks, deep waves. I should be writhing against you now, not against my couch. You should be building this rhythmic dance to a peak, your wet fingers plunged deep, your mouth seeking my taste, my hands in your hair.

Yes, right now, I'm all take. Don't think I don't know how to give.

"I want a girl with lips like morphine/knock me out every time they touch me/I want to feel her kiss just crush me/and break me down..."

Tuesday, September 18, 2012


Come to me. Keep your control, but shift it.
I want to see desire in those deep, expressive eyes; I want to see your lust.

You are not shy, so don't be so coy. I'm addicted to the tension between us. I want to drink your scent down and come back for more. Just standing where you've been makes me heady.

Start with those soft, heartbreaking kisses. Let those kisses deepen, explore me. Grind your mouth against my lips, teeth, tongue. Grab my hips, yank me close, press your thumbs against that oh so sensitive juncture of hip and thigh. Swallow my gasp so no one hears. Force your thighs between mine, spread me, cram yourself against me. Moan when you feel how hot I am for you.
Slide your hands up the sensitive skin of my belly, make me shiver. Push the fabric of my bra aside, pinch, grab, squeeze a blush into my cheeks. Echo my sighs. Be rough, be demanding. Order me around. I'll do what you command.

Monday, September 17, 2012

"Yes, I know, and I'm enjoying every minute of it."

 Some of the things you say echo.

Saturday, September 15, 2012


When you're trapped and burning, what can you do but explode? Sometimes it's nice to control.

My thoughts are all control right now; demanding, forceful, writhing, sensual control. Give me the chance. Sometimes the chance can't be given and must just be taken.

Sometimes the choice cannot be to react, but to act. The body does as it will.

Last night my dreams were disconnected strands of temptation, the worst I've had in some time. Don't leave me to my imagination. I will be consumed.

Now I wish to consume. Don't you miss the fire?
Come to me. Let me glide my fingertips down your arms, creating the same tingle beneath your skin I feel in mine. Let me kiss you with all of the passion I can no longer contain. Let me light the fire in you.
Don't resist. Don't block it anymore. Reveal it, revel in it. Let me lay every inch of me against you. Take my kisses, my touches, my desire. Take what I have to give.

Or don't. Let me force it upon you. Make me push you against the wall and take what I want. Make me drag the kisses I want from your lips. Make me grab your hands and place them where I want them. Make me pin you, and remind you what it feels like to be so alive.

I want to fuck
the living breath
right out of your lungs
so that just to survive
you have to suck
from me
when we kiss.

Gasp - CityDifferent

Thursday, September 13, 2012

Maximum Contact

My cat lives, it seems, for a gentle scratching between his perky little ears. He waits, perched on the dryer or the table, for me to pass. He spends his day divided between these places, alternately sunning himself and sleeping. He deliberately situates himself for maximum contact. Sometimes he grows tired of waiting and seeks me out himself. He will stand with his entire bodyweight pushed against my arm and side, preventing any actions save those that further his ends. Smart cat. He curls himself against me, every inch of his small body against mine, endlessly wanting more.

Is this a story about a cat?

Monday, September 10, 2012


"It ever was, and is, and shall be, ever-living Fire, in measures being kindled and in measures going out." - Heraclitus

Don't feel. Don't catch your breathe sharply when she walks by. Don't look up and away so quickly. Don't smile that secret smile when you are left alone to your thoughts. Don't let that sparkle creep into your eyes. Don't look for her every time you pass. Don't let your mind race for hours lying in bed, thinking thoughts of her.

Don't remember every second of each embrace like each second could be years. You can't live in those moments. Don't let your body feel when she kisses you. For god sake, don't let your body respond. Don't flush when you think of that last insistent kiss. Don't let the fire eat you alive when you are consumed by her touch, scent, taste.

When your pulse beats liquid under your skin to a rhythm she set, don't get swept away.

Friday, September 7, 2012


There is a time, nearly every night, during which I wake. The time does vary; never is it solidly 3am.
I feel things more wholly as I waver between consciousness and sleep, and the emotions I feel when I "wake" are amplified like none other.

Last night my feeling was a feeling of you. I cannot describe it in an understandable sense. I woke feeling lonely, sad, empty, and missing you.

Tonight I intend to sleep through the night. Tonight I want no whole feelings. I just want you. I don't want to wake missing you any more piercingly than I already do. I do not want to wake wanting you. I do not want to wake with the fear that tomorrow today will have been a fantasy.

Instead I will saturate myself in each exquisite sensation the day brought. I will think until thinking becomes impossible. I will feel...I am feeling. The need is a reverberating echo in my bones. The fear is a sinister heaviness in my visceral organs. The desire needs no description, as it is the selfsame desire that drenches us both.

Please. It is a plea so heartfelt, so desperate. Please.