Once is Never Enough

Subtlety is put aside. The tongue explores thoroughly. He wants her to reach her climax orally, so he teases her purposely. His experienced fingers enter her wetness slowly, finding her pleasure spot. In-between the use of his mouth, he rubs her clit with the thick engorged head of his cock. He wants to be inside her, but sexual discipline tempers his erotic emotions. He purposely lets her see the length and width of it to increase the fire of her craving. The tip of his tongue resumes a steady rhythm of exploring. He pauses to look into her eyes seductively and savor the sounds of her moaning. The longing of her wet pulsating pussy cannot be hidden. Warm water based lubricant and a vibrating butt plug lead to uncontrollable shaking and squirting — but one orgasm is just the beginning. The tip of his tongue runs over the ridge of her clitoris again and again; drenched sheets signify the depths of her pleasure. He passionately sucks her toes and licks her soles. Dark plum polish and a gold anklet increases his desire to thoroughly please her. She tastes so good to him. His tongue explores her ass as she pleases her pussy with a magic wand that is powerfully vibrating. She whispers to him, Make me cum again. The tip of his tongue increases the speed of its intensity and rhythm — he looks at her seductively and gauges the timing of her oncoming orgasm. He keeps going until she screams again; his face is drenched in the warmth of the release of her erotic essence.

Loving Lips

The space between the anticipation of a passionate kiss creates its own energy that brings healing with the touch of loving lips. The sun shines on them as if acknowledging that true love has given birth again. They are committed to each other until the end. They are lovers. They are friends. The beauty of her feminine aura only the heavenly hosts could describe. She is a mortal, born of a miracle with an ethereal nature that abides. With every kiss they feel even more alive. Her lips are the taste of raw honey and the softness of them, like ten thousand rose petals covering freshly cut fescue in the fall. She brings him a nurturing only a woman could bring. Her breath, the sweet savor of freshly cut mint leaves in lemongrass tea sweetened with raw brown sugar. Her hair, the winding of a mighty river. The contours of her neck are subtly sexy; the curvature of her breasts embody the womanhood of her feminine beauty. Her lover places his hands upon her with gentle lovingness, expressing his feelings to her without words, telling her that he truly loves her without cliché sentiments or meaningless utterances that drown in the seas of unimportance. There is a sense of belonging in them that draw them close to each other. She glows more brightly than usual because unbeknownst to her, there is a life the dwells within her. With illuminated wings, and a halo of seven stars she will deliver. The agony of her labor will be temporary and she will shine even more brightly in the hours close to her maternity. They will be all connected eternally. The energy of a passionate kiss led to the creation of a new life within her, but they will never lose their sensual fire. They will never lose that beautiful anticipation right before an erotic kiss is given. With every touch they reinvent their passion again and again. They have cried together, and immense love is their constant shelter. They have held hands and walked through fire together. They have defeated the potent corrosion of uncertainty and second guessing. He abides in her and she in him. It is truly amazing, the beautiful healing that comes with passionate kissing — the way it can take away the pain and the cares of the world and place love in its proper perspective. If only one could hear the beautiful whispers that are spoken before kissing. The body is relaxed and tingling because it is a familiar euphoric feeling. Kissing leads to licking, and moaning, and erotic screams from deep penetration. They say there are eight wonders, but nothing is akin to the mystery of a woman. Nothing. There are many beautiful things in this world, but a woman’s beauty trumps all of them. To fall into her embrace is to fall into a place of love and nurturing. To touch her face, is to touch the most beautiful thing the creator ever made. To have her love, is to have something invaluable and sacred. To betray her love, is to cast a rare diamond into an ocean where it could never be found again. To think of her only in sexual terms is to be exceedingly foolish in ignoring her intellect and the beauty of her totality. For a man to not take his time and learn the pleasurable reactions of a woman’s body is to risk her dissatisfaction in eroticism and love making. To not acknowledge the length and beauty of her hair is to ignore what the creator has given to her for a covering. There is a subtle sensuality in the beauty of a woman’s feet that is missed regularly. An ankle bracelet and pedicured toes in stiletto mules can drive a man to lose himself in the pleasuring of a woman in any and everyway possible. From the sweetness of an impassioned kiss, the mouth travels lower and lower until it finds the essence of longing that is wondrous wetness — but still, it is the taste and softness of the lips. It is the taste and softness of the lips.

Intimate Memories

We used to venture to Café Intermezzo at 3AM for New York Cheesecake and expresso. I would hold you intimately at an inside table with a lit candle or on the patio. I would kiss you and tell you that I love you with the depths of me; sometimes we would change our selection from cheesecake and expressos, to old fashioned donuts and Irish Coffee. We used to sing together in the car on our late night drives on Peachtree. I may have failed, but I tried with all my heart to give you the best of me. Out of the blue, you pop up in my memories; In my mind’s gallery, I screenshot the images of you looking at me lovingly. Still, I hold you in my heart and contemplate your beauty. I wonder who now holds you. I wonder if you are married with a family. I wonder if sometimes you think of me. I wonder if you are happy.

No Reprieve

I wonder who holds you. I wonder who whispers words of love to you that move your heart and cause tears of joy to flow as the sun shines on you through curtains that strong winds blow. I wonder if he gently moves strands of your long curly hair from your face before he kisses you when you are sleeping. I wonder if he holds you in his embrace when you are dreaming. I wonder if you comfort him in unending affection when the tears of sorrow are streaming. My contemplation torments me mercilessly, and I find myself wanting to be him. I wonder if he reaches for you with the depths of his soul even when you are in his presence. I wonder if he thoroughly intimately pleases you, reaching the sweet depths of your essence. I wonder if he bathes you in bath oils in a setting with candles, beautiful music, and aromatherapy. Last night, I dreamt that you were lying next to me. Does my heart burn with longing or with the insanity of uncontrolled jealousy? Why do my thoughts torment me, saying to me unceasingly that it should have been me? I look at the man in the mirror and tell him straightforwardly of his stark reality. I would rather live in desolation than in a perpetual unattainable fantasy. In my mind, I kiss her one last time and let her go peacefully — but still, she is there in every breath I breathe. I try and try again to stem my longing, but my heart finds no reprieve. Without her, I want to breathe but my heart and soul find no reprieve. From my own desires, again and again I leave, but still, there is no reprieve.