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 “sex

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 …


When We Wish Only One


We design a fantasy,

the essence of care, desire, a want,

the imagination can begin,

a simple notion of touch,

and my own body does respond, my hands reach,

I wish for yours in the moment,

only option I have is to hope yours might be the same,

I know where my touch would be,

every inch, every aspect of a gasp

your utterance directs my need,

it is my own, only in tandem with satisfying

oneness.


Shoulder Sense


It is when a kiss,

ever soft, a familiar touch,

a loosened garment, exposure,

where my lips rest,

teeth gently arouse,

to a gasp, to a soft hand pulling me,

closer,

now she is alive with passion,

a desire, that will move me to her lips,

while my fingertips trace the wet

reality of a naked shoulder,

that place I will return to again and again,

while hands roam,

legs intertwine, a naked thigh feels a certain desire,

a slide, a soft sinewy grasp …

her eyes smile as my lips envelop one, gentle bite,

a second, a moan now suggests my hands are free to go,

to seek, to find, to slow …

wander inside her world, lips part,

she is in search of my madness, awaiting her direction,

we do wind our souls upon one another,

a fever pitch, while she guides me,

I will watch her eyes while the moment stills,

a kiss, a passionate yearn,

my mouth wet with desire,

returns …

naked shoulder.

 


Just Desserts


I do just want to –

very simply.

I want just to do –

quite delicious

I just want to do –

sweet hours pass

I want to just do you..


Alone in Notion


An emptiness

settles my mind,

when I can know the feeling remains.

If hesitation

suggest an opportunity

the anxiety blows me,

figuratively

of course,

that literal need is always knocking

when I’m alone,

when time stands still and hours fly by,

I wonder if anyone knew

would they …

or

is it me.

Am I the solution to my need,

seems to be a sort of shallow satisfaction,

yet when is it that

preoccupation

finds an eventual happy medium.

There’s a reason I haven’t sought out

that

I suppose it’s some moral conviction,

a desire to maintain my integrity

in the midst of a pool of wanton sensuality.

Find her at home,

is my friend’s lament,

and yet,

I already know this,

I just wonder if she ever will.