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 “sweet

He Said, She Said More


he would spend his time explaining,

she might smile,

he might wish her eyes were dreaming,

she would let him know.

 

he could wish her happiness,

she would tell him,

he would breathe a deep sigh,

she would love him.

 

A sweet morning sunlight,

skies spectacular in romantic drifts,

streaking clouds,

hands that touch with a certain need.

 

By the rail of the public dock,

he pulled her close,

she let lips caress his,

their hands began a celebration.

 

This was his need,

she did offer love,

he would believe

she could feel loved.

 

Their passion furthered

in the long grass,

a shadowed sunlight

under a naked tree.

 

Here was their kiss,

a long and enduring time,

she did suggest tone,

he followed a direction known.

 

Oh to run fingertips along the fabric of her caress,

inside a world he could desire, perhaps he might know.

 

 


When I Miss You


I honestly don’t know where my head is,

drifting along some riverbank,

a reminder of the man across the way,

that sort of damp soil,

yet we were together, alone

in a sort of, romantic way.

 

Self-conscious in our attraction to each other,

given the nature of the fisherman nearby,

we were never sure if his attention

was upon his animal, the golden running about,

or if he consciously wondered about

the two of us,

or maybe we did, we always do,

like any quiet stroll along the riverbank.

 

I remember I could rest my chin on your shoulder,

feel you pull yourself back to press lips on my cheek,

your hair cascades around me,

I can sense you,

I recognize the sweet air of your being,

like a quiet hug in the middle of the day,

in a neighborhood, we may.

 

I do wish to suggest, this is the state of my way,

when alone in my quiet mind, I am thinking …

wishing, wanting, always wondering, when time

will allow my rest upon

sweet naked shoulders.


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 …


The Foolishness


When I do sometime imagine,

where my world seems to wish to land,

how it is I have become the man I am today,

I wonder in the privacy of my way.

 

I ask myself in the quiet of a night rain,

is it me that is seeking cover from the pain,

do I ignore the needs of others,

or am I simply trying to avoid the fear of hers.

 

I listen to the beauty of our soft harmony,

a kiss, lips so soft I am in my own agony,

to imagine ever letting go of her sweet beauty,

I am the foolishness of my own lack of duty.

 

I have this yearn while watching the sky turn gray,

I do want you in my arms, her I mean, my dismay

in knowing I have been the light minded fool

of nostalgic certainty, the waving tides do cool.

 

A certain passion could describe the love we share,

when out of a quiet night we find we are where

we both wish to be, in arms, an unbridled love affair,

for that is the truth of our reality, someone might swear.

 

But I do love her, he says to himself, quite alone,

always alone again, knowing she had never known.


Letting The Sound Breathe


I look for a spot to jump on,

waiting, time passing,

the moments seem all to blend with one another,

while alone I do wait,

I wonder about where it is I might find the right note,

the melody,

is it that final drawn octave, carries my soul,

allows me to imagine I am in the heavens,

drifting beyond the scorn of nature’s wrath,

instead,

a part of the grace and wonder of time,

a virtual cacophony of desired elements in love …

 

I do love to listen to violins,

the harmonic convergence of their essential oils, strings, resonate

voice

upon which we allow our lives to grasp

the inner soul of our wisdom drawn from sound.

It is when I imagine a valley, and deep below just in my sight,

is she there walking, perhaps waiting,

in another dream leaving my world,

for another adventure, though when I draw close,

the strings seem to speak to the horrific nature of letting go,

and I do run with the adagios of life’s meant travel.

 

There is a place in my mind, that an occasional sound,

a combination of instrumental design, an orgasmic display of

the very nature of my own compelling need

to recognize her soft skin,

as fingertips play the long sinewy arms of passion,

I will rest upon my shoulder her sweet sound.

,and be forever grateful to know beauty.


A Quiet Rain Has Impact


When I opened my eyes,

she was there,

I felt the soft pattern of silence

in the misty morning blues,

I held her close to me,

because I had so recently been reminded,

by the sweet pattern of femininity …

did her shoulders speak to me again,

her eyes with such lightning beauty,

the scent of her as I nuzzled near,

only for a moment,

wondering if I could hold her more.

 

If I might always convince you,

just how much your world

is in my soul, my dreams, my waking desire,

whenever I have the chance to imagine being

just next to you,

I will

forever believe in the mystique,

sweet energy,

it is the nectar of my fantasy,

to know you are my reality.


When Life Unravels


Outside, the sunlight indicates energy,

a source of truth to allow our lives to breathe,

a freedom,

the ability to soak in the rays of God.

 

What if the challenge were met,

to suggest we are sustainable without

such solar panels of truth

to guide our bodies in a positive way.

 

I woke this morning with usual tears,

trying to piece together my world,

a place where I belong and do not exist,

all drawn together to define my me.

 

Oh if I could just hold you for an instance,

whenever the need arise, if a sudden

wind would draw me near,

so we might exchange energy as one.

 

I do want you to know love,

no matter the hurt of time and society,

please just allow peace to envelop you

to understand the eternal nature …

 

Our soul, we talk about finding our way,

in every step of my day, I sense your truth.