NSFW – Adults Only Please – My goal with this page constantly evolves – there was a time when all I wanted was to pique a woman's interest in the hope we connect through writing, dialogue … today, with all of the wonderful inspiration I've received, my need is to further my respect and intrigue in the sensual nature of 'woman' in all of her grace and elegance. I do hope you might enjoy!

Posts tagged “erotica

Sensual Dream


When I close my eyes,

I feel

her,

that simple grace,

in a moment,

when all of my desire,

seems centered,

her,

the sweet nectar of passion,

soft, supple, sensual

a wanton blend of

yes, this is me,

and I am with you

now,

this moment,

captured in an eternal surreal memory.

To reach,

to find, explore,

in a caress, in a sweet travel,

while our horizon remains the same,

inside our own quiet remedy,

is a journey,

only responsive to each other.

 

Show me please …

your eyes.

 


A State of Want


In a glance,

a smooth gentle curve,

winding around a world,

where my want might remain,

it is in this quiet

delight,

the shape of you,

with eyes enhanced,

suggesting I might take you,

suggesting please do take me,

in that moment

delicious.

 

I am a wonder in fantasy,

only with a desire might I recall,

the contours of a settling valley,

a surreal stream,

a touch,

the rising waters will then give me pause,

for it is here in the nature of love,

I do wish to watch springs flow,

the gasps of evening, a sensory paradise,

it is a caress of her sweet remedy,

my dreams become reality.


writing words & Her


Oh I do on occasion confuse,

the true meaning of love,

it is when in an intellectual storm,

I sometimes forget,

or perhaps I choose,

while deep inside my mind,

I know the answer manifests itself as a want.

 

I want to seduce her,

I want to have her gasp at my touch,

I want to teach her how to let go and journey beyond

I want her to love me,

in the same manner I wish to always love her.

 

Then later, after the travel, the explosive gathering of storm,

when feeling the shelter of her center,

the beauty is grace in the arms of her sweet passion,

then later,

when I do recall the words,

I know she might wonder about

seduction.

 

Is it a ploy, or a necessary piece of the whole,

where does elegance come into play,

when the ultimate goal is to bring distinct pleasure

into her life,

into her being,

into the reason she might wish to breathe, to feel, to respond.

 

When do the words seem enough.


Only Erotic


When I do touch her,

there is this immediate

sensory need to know pleasure,

not my own,

hers, the sense of where I might be,

will soon discover a gasp,

a garment with my teeth,

a gently bite of her shoulder,

swept away to a naked caress,

and my tongue and lips explore

her every being,

and yet, we are just beginning,

I move with hands on shoulders,

her open neck waiting,

enough to know when touch,

her head flails,

wanting my every motion to capture,

the essence of her woman.

 

… and then I will let my hands cup

the simple nature of her being,

lips finding, fingertips tracing,

tongue a twirl,

now it is her gasps will let my hands

fall to discover a center,

that part of her beauty I imagine,

only when apart how much I would carefully,

with precision,

find her,

move her,

taste her excitement.

 

For it is then we know there is integrity,

in the nature of woman, in woman,

in her wanting to feel,

wanting to reveal that which will

allow me to reach inside her whole.


When A Younger Man


When a younger man,

I had these notions about love,

seemed to me,

the word could manifest itself,

in a red bikini laying next to me on a beach near a man-made lake.

 

At fourteen, I could see her nipples through the sheer fabric,

the lower garment-like a drape,

covering some aspect of woman

I would later only cherish as my spiritual mecca.

But I’ll never forget her breasts in red velvet,

at least that was my impression,

at fourteen,

a hot summer day,

my erection buried in the sand.

 

See the reality is I was afraid to look,

and yet she was delighted to feel so beautiful,

to know eyes would glance,

and all I wanted to do was

just tell her,

just find the right words to suggest how wonderful

she made me feel,

buried in the sand in a safe sort of adolescent scream.

 

When I was a younger man,

I began to love woman,

not women, but the essence of her being,

and I would imagine the travels,

my lips, my fingertips,

my journey to bring only pleasure to her eyes,

at fourteen,

with my head buried in the sand.


It Is That Soft Touch


When we do go there,

our miles of dialogue discerned,

eyes searching, want,

the sudden though balanced

shift from anxiety to desire,

when we do, when touch

becomes central.

 

I imagine silk scarves covering her nakedness,

everything else is normalcy,

yet silk,

slides so effortlessly,

fun to pull with fingers,

or teeth,

more pleasurable to imagine,

the arousal, her skin, come alive

knowing she is being

loved in a physical way.

 

Oh there is certain in anticipation,

a rosy set of –

untouched yet yearning,

he sees, she knows, he knows, she …

when a moment allows the wetness

envelops one,

a gasp,

save the other, though always balance,

until there is a certain languid

sensuality that slides his mouth along lines,

toward another part of her nakedness,

his mouth plays, tongue tease,

she does again,

gasp, as his mouth lowers,

his hands return silks,

the scarves,

to naked, peaked – ,

shout to the touch, while

now the center will be his aim.

 

Oh to spend time here,

with hands that find,

with lips that do taste,

a desire in her eyes, looking for his,

for he is on a watch,

to notice her upper lip

settle in quiver

as yes he does,

the circles begin,

the fingertips respond, explore, search,

a designed rhythm

whereby bodies are moving,

his anticipation grinds into a corner

of silk bedding, save for later.

 

For now it is the duty, desire of his tongue,

to find her arch, that involuntary sweep of

unbridled passion,

that wanton nature,

of finding her rhythm to reach …

ah, breathe sweet, spent, curls and lips

rest upon my shoulder,

I would then feel her hands,

 

begin again …


Stunning Appraisal


When given license to explore

regions a man may only imagine,

when allowance a fingertip

might cause an unraveling passion,

there is little need for explanation,

only the source is a lovely fluid

motion, gives the senses reason

to entice that aspect of humanity,

will explosions enhance our climax.

 

There is a vague reality in the distinction

between love and sex. Where one

decides a motive is a self-driven

journey, another  wishes only pleasure

to manifest itself in the eyes of a lover.

It is that deep delight when cast upon

our actions, when a touch, a twirl,

a slow methodical insertion can wake

that nirvana is delightful in presence.

 

Would that we might repeat ourselves

again, yes, once more, please, again, a

twilight response to evening’s reason.

Would that her desire begin to move,

as he himself feels this energy untapped.

Again, again, again, rest, taste, touch, breathe

a gasp will be suggestive in her eyes, his

draw to bring alive a new utterance,

a kiss, lips, alive we wish, please … again.