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 “writing

Emotions Unwrapped

unbridled satisfaction,

a glow,

sweet smile


we all feel the same

let go

begin to climb

satisfaction is a driving force

that need

eloquent sensuality

when all else

disappears in the mist

of release –

we play together

Love and Sex and Emily Dickinson

I wonder about a typical day

for Emily in her white shroud.

I wonder if I being a neighbor boy,

would ever be allowed inside her home.

Who did she let in,

when the world around her co-existed

with her reclusive chosen despair.

I wonder if I might be that kid nearby,

had I been intrigued by her mystique,

I know the few times she stood by the window,

I was curious if she ever liked what she saw,

or always remained afraid.


I think about Emily and I don’t imagine sex.

I do regard the beauty of her elegance

the attractive nature of her persona,

yet, I do believe a smile,

simply an expression with her eyes,

might satisfy my need

to know if she were ok.


I think it is funny when suddenly I realize,

it’s not the sex at all, though that is a beautiful reality,

that arousal and our ability to pique our body’s desire,

to such a degree we become mentally enthralled by our own

private reality.

Yet if Emily did stroll by with a pensive expression,

would that be all I would need

being the neighbor boy,

the one that might hold court,

with simply accepting her need

to live.

Being Easy

I danced along hypocrisy’s tiles

wondering about how,

as she moved before my eyes

I could possibly have her.

I’m told …


she’s easy,

wants it,

look at the manner,

in her eyes,

that skirt,

she flaunts it,

she just needs to have it.


I’m willing


when she moves her hips sway,

a sinewy illusion

arms fly to the sun, and cascade

while gently slide upon her derriere,

she is moving to the sound of me,

no music involved,

only the true nature of how magic

works when woman wills

my soul.


I would caution all of us to step away from the podium,

together we might recognize just how difficult her world …

Usual Spot

I do return here,

quite often,

the mood is always right,

no matter the season,

time of day,

state of mind,

I know somehow

light will appear.


There are times I don’t even wait,

the tone is set,

I can see from a distance,

beauty awaits,

in her eloquent form,

the manner a wrap drapes love lines,

the manner of a lean,

how eyes dart across the room,

and yes,

how she does look at me in the moment;

that singular breath of fresh air,

that says hello without regard to

social constraint.


Then it happens all at once,

I want to be inside,

inside her world, in grasp,

I want to feel the beauty of a spiritual reckoning,

the energy she exudes,

I want that,

only for the moment.


When We Tango

My internal need feeds

upon her nakedness

shoulders respond to breeze

wet with willful pause taste desire,

gasps bring naked bodies together,

a dance moves in constant form

thigh grinds her center while he does feel

her ankles pulling his chest close,

nipple in mouth, now fingers finding her lower back,

the heat below is a tease,

she chuckles knowing he could slide in,

‘damn him’ grasps his length with gentle bite.


The small of her back arched to a tongue in motion,

her buttocks offer life to his chest as he reaches her neck,

winds around a waiting naked sound,

she drives him toward her,

he lifts her wet beauty,

only to test her now – three fingers that slide freely,

a moan,

please let me play with you for a bit longer,

her tongue speaks in circular tones,

her hands now immediate,

stroking while she wets his desire,

he turns her, his hands cupping her breasts,

pulls her to his chest,

head thrown back so she can have his lips,

teeth biting … shoulders, her mouth searching for his,

a lift and we’re inside

ready to ride …

tango tonight.

When Tears Matter


last dance

eyes search empty

barware cling to naked

shoulders wear years of pleasure

beyond the pain brought us to our knees

once before.


remembers him

he ignores certain

charm, that sort of love

seemed ever apparent wet

sobs, pleasure moments to breathe

that gasp


wants her

always did when

ever legs became wiry

weak knees, flush brow hope,

her ass sways in a way reminds

him of his hands

strange how we love our fingertips,

they become us,

when watching this woman walk away

her hips reminded me,

only in a genteel way

there’s no insult here

love my sensual imagination –

she always knew that


today, we’re alone,

a walk in the park where one night,

his love, her passion, his need, her beauty

together, while he laid nearby,

they wrought the wood natural,

until in a late moon she laughed again,

when tears matter.

When She Arrived

I remember peace,

in my heart,

a feeling of delight

when imagining her.


I remember being giddy

knowing this was right,

working through the dream

would be her reality.


I remember tasting love,

and writhing to find

more with each motion

drawn toward her center


I remember her eyes,

sparkles and shine,

real cosmic tones,

an earthy sort of gig.


I remember stability,

she could be the

dream that loneliness

might suggest otherwise.


I recall midnight walks,

summertime blankets

behind bulrushes,

and knotty pine.