"...ing".....

Seed planting

Thoughts developing

Nerves building

Excitement mounting

Butterflies growing

Time passing

Eyes meeting

Knees quivering

Hands shaking

Face smiling

Cheeks blushing

Eyes lowering

Skin touching

Pores perspiring

Mouth sighing

Lips touching

Tongues meeting

Hands roving

Hearts thumping

Body longing

Hands groping

Fingers rubbing

Mouths groaning

Trousers straining

Arms gripping

Mouth exploring

Senses exploding

Cock hardening

Eyes darkening

Lust building

Bodies aching

Cunt dripping

Tongue lapping

Heart pounding

Muscles tensing

Toes curling

Limbs clamping

Palms twitching

Mouths groaning

Hips plunging

Hands gripping

Teeth biting

Mouths Screaming

Bodies convulsing

Fluids releasing

Throat sighing

Arms holding

Time passing

Bodies spooning

Calm returning

Need

“I close my eyes, inhale, and feel a rush of heat and energy that takes my breath away.

It is the feeling of wanting something so much that it borders on an actual need, and the power and urgency of this need overwhelms me.”

Emily Griffin, Love the One You’re With

*This* is one of those times when no other words are needed.  These words, this picture says it all.

The want. The desire. The need....

*sigh*

I awoke

I awoke with

the hard longing

of hunger

to have you here.

To see you

naked beside me,

bared before me.

I awoke with

a hard longing

of hunger

to hold you,

to touch you,

to kiss you,

to hurt you.

I awoke with

a hard longing

for you to

enter the depths

of my desire,

and me.

Oh, how I want

Oh, how I want

you.

Stripped naked

so I can cover you with

my hands, my body

my mouth.

Oh, how I want

to trace each line of

your body,

feeling you

shiver,

feeling you

relax under the touch

of my fingers,

of my

tongue.

Oh, how I want to

hear the

sharp intake of breath

as I lean in covering

your mouth with my own,

to feel your lips

pressed against mine,

drawing you in to the warmth

of my mouth,

deeper and closer.

Oh, how I want

to taste every last

part of you,

to touch you,

hold you

and feel you as

I devour.

Tangling in a closeness

of a passionate

kiss.

Oh, how I want YOU.

Moments

Never allow anyone to rain on your parade and thus cast a pall of gloom and defeat on the entire day.  Remember that no talent, no self-denial, no brains, no character, are required to set up in the fault-finding business.  Nothing external can have any power over you unless you permit it.  Your time is too precious to be sacrificed in wasted days combating the menial forces of hate, jealously, and envy.  Guard your fragile life carefully.  Only God can shape a flower, but any foolish child can pull it to pieces. Og Mandino

Take out the comment about God shaping a flower (certainly doesn't match my beliefs) and these words are very true today.

Not only does it seem that people are trying to rain on my parade, they're trying to be a full on monsoon!

It feels as if someone is pulling the flower apart, petal by petal, pulling it away and throwing it into the wind.

I'm tired. 

It's been an emotionally draining and difficult weekend.

I feel totally depleted.

The darkness of early Saturday morning only managed to drift away slightly and that feeling of emptiness has certainly made it's presence felt.

Insomnia is kicking my ass right now. My brain filled with it's cacophony of thoughts is sapping away any last bit of energy that I'm desperately trying to hold onto.

I need to re-group, I need to have some serious down time, but some down time filled with closeness and warmth.

I just have a longing to be close right now and yet it feels as if there is an insurmountable distance. 

I am longing to have. . . no, I want to have . . .no, I NEED to have moments of sharing closeness . . . intimate moments of warmth and tenderness. 

Moments of holding, of gentle kissing, of just "being", lots of moments with him. . . damn I long, want and need that so much right now! 

This weekend cannot come quick enough! 

Screw poetry!

"Screw poetry, it's you I want, your taste, rain on you, mouth on your skin."
Margaret Atwood

There are no poetic words waiting to spill all over the page.  There is no melodious soliloquy or discourse. 

There is no painting of aimless silhouette's on a naked canvas depicting an artistic longing.

Instead there is just the carnal and lascivious desires that are burning, that are longing, that are screaming for attention.  There is the ravenous hunger for sensual touch, your touch. 

Your fingers, your hands, your mouth over me, upon me, in me.

There is the rousing desires, of wants and needs. 

Screw the words, screw the poetry, screw the art upon bare canvas. 

Instead  I want you. 

Your hands, your mouth, your body touching mine.  Instead I want to touch you, to kiss you, to bite you and hurt you.  I want to breath you in, taste you, hold you.

There is no need for epodic rhyme. 

There is just a need for a moment.  A moment with you, with a mellifluous symphony of desirous worship.

Hands

You know what your hands do to me.  Already.

How I long for them to touch every inch of me.  No lips, no tongue.  Just your hands. 

To feel your fingertips as they caress softly.  Your whole hand as it gathers my breasts and squeezes. 

You could touch me this way for hours. 

Thoughts....

Salacious thoughts of

hungry lips

between wrinkled sheets.

Of nibbles and bites.

Desires

and wishing, a fervent

longing.

Do you have any idea
how often I think
about you,

of you?
Licentious longings

of touch, of taste,

of intimate gentleness,

of pain.

And if you knew

of the desirous thoughts

I have, a distance you

might keep.

But would that distance

take you further

away

or would it bring

you closer?

Revisiting . . .

I revisited this blog this week.

I've not had the time, motivation or more so the inspiration to write for such a long time. 

The one thing that was such an outlet for thoughts, emotions, experiences, life, became a somewhat distant memory as life gets in the way. 

I don't read my blog entries. 

Not normally.  I write them, I hit publish and they are out there.  I don't find myself drawn to reading my own words, I don't feel an urge to revisit the moment, the time or the feelings.

And this week, for the first time, I actually did revisit some of the entries here.  Someone had commented how much sadness evolved within my blog, from the words that I had written, from the posts that I had made.  I don't think I'd ever really thought about it, or certainly not how much sadness and pain there actually is here.  And yes there are writings of experiences that are damn hot, to me.  There are writings of times which I know I've been lucky to experience within life.  And regardless of whatever emotion is within my writing, I don't have regrets about those times, the people who were a part of my life.  I don't regret writing, or sharing or putting it "out there" . . .out here.

One thing I have learned over the years is that everything for me is emotionally driven. 

I feel.  Deeply. Strongly. Hard. 

And when you open yourself up to those feelings, to having such depth of feeling to the wonderful feelings that can flood our being, we open ourselves up to the hurt.  The pain.  The sadness.

I have no reason to hide the fact that there have been situations in life which have caused such pain.  I have no reason to hide the fact that I feel that pain, feeling it doesn't make me a weak person.  I actually think for me it's the opposite, these feelings have given me strength.  But these situations, these feelings, these depths of emotion that I am capable of feeling, make me "me". 

I miss feeling.  I miss having that depth of emotion of someone, for someone, for many things in life.

And yet, I write.  I release and do not revisit. 

It's happened.  It was. It has been - it doesn't need to be again *I* don't need it to be again.

But revisiting has reminded me just how much I love to write.  Of just how much it is a release of such thoughts and feelings, whether it be happiness, sadness, anger or love.  

This is my release. 

This is my outlet.

The urge to write floods my being.  I find myself wanting to make the time that is so lacking.  I find myself motivating myself to write. 

And finally, I am inspired.

Need

 

I need.

 

To feel that closeness. That intimacy. The intimate moments that come from such simple moments. Moments of closeness.  There is nothing so precious as moments such as this, when there can be such a beautiful closeness.

 

I need.

 

That warmth. That bond. That connection. I need to feel the depths of his submission to my dominance.  To feel him, and letting him know from my touch how much he is cherished and in return, I can feel his obsession, his passion, his love.

 

I need.