Wednesday, June 15, 2011


He was perfection.

I saw him across that crowded bar. The walls were paneled in a light wood, tinted darker now from the years of cigarette smoke that coated them. He was someone I would never have bothered to look twice at. Too young, too pretty and yet when our eyes locked, the air between us crackled with electricity.

Something so strong passed between us in that moment. Everything around us disappeared and all I could see was him. Time had stopped and we were alone in that crowded bar, among all its patrons and their cigarettes and drinks. When he approached me and we began talking, I knew that I never wanted to stop talking to him. A bond formed in those short hours we spent, making mostly small talk, that would withstand much more than either of us ever thought possible.

And so, it began. Our greatest fantasies and our worst nightmares came true.

In spite of the intense sexual fire between us, the first touch of his tongue to mine was shy, sweet and yet still, pure heat. His hands explored my body, as if he already knew exactly what it needed. I bet he still does. I knew him as well. I still know exactly what to say, how to touch him, how to make his body ache for mine. I became his, without him ever having to ask, and he became mine.

Hours upon hours of mindless, earth shattering sex. His naked hips pressed against my backside as he bent me over my desk. Hands, rough from his work, sent tingles along my spine as he dragged them down my back. He would tangle his fingers in my hair and tug my head back as he pounded himself into me. “Such a dirty bitch,” he’d say and my body would sing in release for him. Always for him. Later he would settle between my thighs, poised above me. Our bodies were slick with sweat, a consistent result of our love making. I would wrap my legs around his hips, holding him close to me, my arms encircling his neck. “I love you,” I would whisper. A kiss, eyes wide open, staring into each other’s souls and drinking in the depths of bliss that hid there. Those slow moments of passion that lingered between us branded our hearts as he entered me. Time would stop.

With so much passion and intensity of course, there was always the fighting. A perfect mixture and it seemed we reveled in it, soaking ourselves in a desperate pool of jealousy and retaliation. Anger boiled to the surface in place of understanding and the gloves would go on. Round after round we would battle. It became our form of foreplay. After all, what’s better than make-up sex? Fucking and fighting. The best of both worlds, it was unavoidable. The fight would happen and my body would burn for him. He told me once that it was like that for him too. That I made him beyond angry, hateful even, and in those moments, all he wanted to do was fuck me. Sometimes he would. Sometimes he wouldn’t and it was the latter that would leave me with an ache in my chest that equaled the ache between my thighs. Madness.

Naturally, living together proved disastrous, another failed attempt to “make it work.” We fooled ourselves into thinking that living together would somehow make it better, easier. I’d push, as was always my nature to do, for more. Always more. “Pay attention to me!” Or “Where have you been? You’re never home with me. Fucking be here. Be with me. Choose me or fucking leave!” I would scream. He would dig his heels in and refuse to fight, which would make me crazier. Then he would just walk away. Leaving me there in my misery and seething hatred, only to come back because he couldn’t stay away. That damned connection, like some invisible tether drawing us back together. Always there. Always. As if we had no choice. No say at all in the matter.

Baffling. We had created such a warped and beautiful form of love. I loved him with all my heart, every part of my soul, and he loved me. He told me every day that he did. “Baby, I love you. End of story,” he would say. He never thought I believed him. I was so sure that we would find a way to sort through it all. To make sense of this thing between us that just wouldn’t go away, that wouldn’t die. Soon enough though, I watched him walk out the door for what would be the last time. He turned a blind eye to my tears and a deaf ear to my pleas to stay. The white paneled door of our apartment slowly closed. Its audible click rang in my ears and vibrated through my body to the soles of my feet.

Steeped in heartache and misery, I let him go, I had to. I refused to beg him to stay. Blessed anger reared its ugly head. Fuck him. Fuck the- I love you’s. Fuck the promises made. Fuck everything. I’ll live with it. All the pain, all the misery, all the memories and the God forsaken fucking ache!

Time is supposed to heal all wounds, but in my case it did not. On occasion I’m forced to see him. Our paths cross and he pretends as though he doesn’t see me. I pretend, too. I quietly watch him play at that same bar where we met. The same walls, paneled in a light wood, tinted even darker now from the years of cigarette smoke that coat them. Who is the next one in line for him? Who is the next on his list? It doesn’t really matter, they aren’t me. I realized long ago that there is no one like him. Try as we may, what we had can never be replaced, nor repaired.

In truth, he disgusts me now. When I see him flirting with another woman, or see that look he gets in his eyes that is supposed to only be for me, my anger rises and bile burns the back of my throat. That ever present heat begins between my thighs, again. Thunder booms in my chest and I am ready to tear into him. Tell him to go fuck himself and whatever floosy he’s slipping his dick into tonight. Then lightning flashes and all I want to do is fuck him, feel him fuck me like he used to. I have often wondered if he still feels like that, too. I think he would rather die before he ever admits he does.

At home, alone in my bed, my insane fantasy begins. I see it, ever so clearly, as I slip my fingers between my slick folds. If he ever dared to approach me, what would I do? My body aches at the prospect as I probe my channel, then rub my clit. I would slap his face. Yes. I’d revel in seeing the fire erupt in his eyes, knowing that his cock just got hard, for me. Always for me. I’d take his hand then, and lead him to my car, or my bed. Fuck, even a dark corner would do.

The pain would be worth it. Touching him again, feeling him slide inside me. Always had been, hadn’t it? It would destroy my very soul and yet, I’d fuck him until he screamed my name and…

For us. Always for us. We would start our madness all over again.

Because we were perfection.

Friday, March 18, 2011

Watch Me

Tell me, how do you devour me within your mind?
When you’re alone, can you feel your skin against mine?
I can sense you watching me as I dance.
I often wonder what stops you from making your move.
What keeps you rooted in your seat?
That’s it, lick your lips. Yes.
Is your mouth watering too?
Do you crave just one little taste?
I’m sweeter than a peach, some might say.
I want to know, does that make your cock ache?

Am I the star in your private fantasies?
You’ve been starring in mine for quite some time.
Center stage, it’s always the same.
You’re larger than life, settled between my welcoming thighs.
Hot lips rest on the bend of my neck.
Little nips of your teeth.
Your tongue soothes the welcome sting.
Finger tips trace designs over my flesh.
My nails dig in, tearing lines down your spine.
A low moan, yours or mine?
Your body arches and you enter my heat.
Thick and long, sinking deep.
Wrapping my legs tightly around.
Pulling you close, holding you inside.
Begging you.
Harder, harder please.

That’s it, shift in your seat.
Does your skin itch to feel my touch?
For now, watch me dance.
But tonight when you’re alone,
With your cock thick and throbbing in your palm,
Stroke it slowly, thinking only of me.
Grip it tightly, thrust your hips.
Imagine it’s my heat swallowing you deep.
When you come, scream my name.
And know, that it’s me
Who owns you.

Wednesday, December 15, 2010


Will I submit to you
Are you strong enough
To make me
Those that try never succeed
In flipping the switch in me
I’m pleading
Dominate me
It’s what I need
But be warned
I’ll smell weakness
Lingering in your mind
Then it will be you
Who submits
To me

Friday, July 16, 2010

It's Me

There you are. I’ve been waiting.
Oh please, come in. Have a seat.
No, no don’t worry about me.

Tell me baby, what is it you need?

Would you like me to…
Lick you, suck you?
Taste you, fuck you?

Whatever you want,
Asking is the key.
No need to thank me.

I’m all you need.
Just ask and you’ll receive.
No reason to worry about my needs.

I’m here for you.
Pour everything into me.
I’ll hold it all, while you’re buried inside me.

I’ll climb onto your lap.
Dig my nails in and pull your hair.
Sink my teeth into the sweet flesh of your neck.

Make you bleed.
Ride your cock.
Fuck you till you scream.

Now tell me baby, what is it you need?

Do you want me to…
Lick you, suck you?
Swallow you, fuck you?

Let me remind you of a few things…
When you’re alone and your cock is in your hand.
Just remember that it’s me.

…It’s me that you see.
…It’s me that you taste.
…It’s me that takes everything.

Monday, June 14, 2010

Alone In My Room...

The soft whir of the air conditioner penetrates the silence. The chill air in the room lulls me into a restless sleep. Shivers multiply across my flesh, tightening my nipples into small points beneath the sheets. In that moment I remember; my body remembers…you.

Images flood my mind until I am drowning in you. I breathe your scent deep into my lungs and taste the sweet flavor of your skin. I can feel your hands roam my body.

I know you’re not here but I can see you. You are sitting in the stout chair in the corner of the room. Your eyes glow in the moonlight as you watch me. My body arches on the bed, and a knot forms in my stomach, tight with anticipation.

I can hear your voice…

“Touch yourself for me,” you command. That mischievous grin stretches your soft lips. Your dark hair casting a shadow over your features in the dim light of the room.

Slowly, above the sheet, I run my hands up my body. I can feel heat spread through my flesh. I pause, unsure of myself, just below my breasts, the sheet straining against them. Cupping my breasts, I arch into my touch, pressing my aching nipples into the palms of my hand. Wetness gathers between my legs.

I whisper a barely audible, “Please.”

“Show me,” you growl, shifting in your seat.

I tug down the sheet, squeeze my full breasts and pinch my nipples. The sting vibrates through my chest. Raising my knees and pressing my feet to the mattress, my hands travel down my stomach to the juncture between my thighs and a moan escapes me with the first touch of my fingers. My skin tingles from the cool air yet the fire inside me burns hotter.

Our eyes lock. My fingers explore my moist folds. I dip into my wetness, my body hums with arousal. My walls tighten with the need for more.

“That’s it, dirty girl. Now show me more, let me see you touch that throbbing clit of mine. And it is mine.”

Your breaths grow ragged as I penetrate my sex and spread my juices around my throbbing clit. Stroking and teasing, my body begins to climb higher, my core rippling

with my building orgasm.

You rise from your place and approach me, pulling off your shirt, stopping at the foot of the bed.

“Now, now, you know better than that. I didn’t tell you to come yet.”

Holding your gaze, I pull my fingers away, trailing my juices over my stomach and to one breast. Slowly, I circle my nipple, coating it with my cream. I suckle the remainder from my fingers, rolling the taste over my tongue. You always love to watch me lick my fingers clean. Your eyes widen. The groan of approval that emerges from you gives me the encouragement I need to show you more. Completely covered and dripping with my arousal, I spread my legs offering myself. I’m ready for you.

“Good girl,”

The sound of your lowering zipper sends lightning

through my whole body. Slowly, you remove your jeans, revealing what I ache for. Long and thick with your desire for me, your cock is just as beautiful and perfect as I remember. Mine.

“I need you inside me, please?”

You grab me by one ankle and tug me down the bed towards you. Leaning down, you bite my lower lip, licking it once with your hot tongue, enticing me. You pause, hovering barely a breath away. Then with a hard press of your lips you cover my mouth with yours. I open eagerly. A demanding tangle of tongues, I lap and suckle your taste. I’m starved for you. I drink you in and swallow your flavor into my very soul.

Pulling your lips away and straightening. you whisper, “if you continue to be such a good girl, I’ll give you what you need. But first I’ll fuck that gorgeous mouth of yours.”

Licking my lips as I sit up, I reach for your cock, circling it with my hand. Savoring the sight of absolute perfection, I flick the tip with my tongue and taste the first drops of arousal seeping from the tip. Rolling my tongue over the head you grab the back of my hair, thread your fingers and tug my head back.

Staring into my eyes, your jaw clenched with such intensity you grind out. “You know how I want it.”

I nod and you push my head down to your cock, your hips thrust forward and I swallow you between my lips. Over and over I stroke you with my tongue. Relaxing my throat to swallow you deeper, moaning and humming as you fill my mouth; licking, sucking and loving every inch.

“Fuck, I love your mouth. So hot and sweet.”

Sucking harder, I feel you grow thicker between my lips. One hand circles the base of your cock, the other massages your tight heavy sack. I relish this and my pulse thunders with the need for more. Your taste, sweet and salty, is like heaven. Pulling my mouth from you I lick a line with my tongue from your balls to the tip of your cock, grazing the head with my teeth, then lick down the underside of your shaft again. Stroking your cock with my hand while sucking the tight sensitive skin of your balls into my mouth. Your body bucks in response and you cry out.

“Enough! Turn over now.” You command.

Quickly I obey. Grabbing my hips you roughly lift me to my knees and lick a line with your hot tongue up the center of my back. Pulling me upright to your body, your hard cock rests between my legs. You bite my shoulder, then my neck. Every inch of my skin tightens with need. My heart pounds in my chest and my core melts like butter coating my inner thighs.

“I’m going to fuck you, but first I need a taste of your honey”

“Yes! Yes! Please.” I reply in a gravely voice I barely recognize.

“On your elbows, baby. I want that sweet ass in the air.” You whisper, your breath hot against my ear.

Your hand tangles in my hair; you push me forward. Resting on my elbows, I arch my back as you’ve instructed.

Kneeling down you lick up the back of my thigh to my ass cheek, and then repeat up the other leg. Gripping my ass in your hands, you stroke up the center of my wet folds with your tongue. My body shudders and I jerk forward.

“Don’t move!” You command and grip my ass harder, slapping one side with your hand. Crying out, my pussy grows wetter with the sting of your palm.

Standing again, the head of your arousal strokes my outer folds; I grip the sheets tighter and hear the distinct sound of my nails tearing the soft fabric.

Slowly you enter me; lingering barely inside with just the tip, then pull away. Leaving me grappling for control of my body as my orgasm threatens to break free. Slipping inside me again, my wet channel milks you tightly. Your growl penetrates my senses to their core and my body begins to shudder. With a slow, deliberate rhythm, you slide in and out of my hot walls with just the head of your cock. Whimpering in a desperate combination of frustration and ecstasy as you tease me; my throbbing clit becoming a tightly wound spring of desire threatening to snap.

“Tell me you want me,” you demand.

“I want you! Fuck me, please. Now!” I beg.

“That’s my dirty girl”

Gripping my hips tightly you enter me with one solid stroke, your hips slam against my ass. I cry out in sheer delight as your thickness stretches my walls. You pause for just a moment, allowing me to adjust to your size. My pussy clamps down around your shaft and you begin those long strokes in and out of me. Our grunts and groans become a melody in the silent room. The sounds of slapping flesh and wetness drag me closer and closer to my orgasm.

“Please! Please! I can’t… I nee…”

“Not Yet! Not until I say”

With another slap to my ass, I cry out in utter bliss from the sting of pleasure mixed with pain. Your hands grip my ass, pulling me harder to you; pounding your cock into me with each stroke.

One hand leaves my ass and you lean forward reaching around between my legs and pinch my swollen clit.

“Yes! Yes! Harder!” I bellow.

Massaging my clit, you growl in my ear. “Come for me baby… Come Now!”

My body explodes beneath you as you continue to pump inside of me. Spasms spread through my entire being. It’s endless and pure magnificence.

Sitting up, you move your hand from my clit and grip my hair. Your other hand still clenching on my soft ass, continuing your delicious assault on my body.

“This is mine. This pussy is mine” you growl.

Pulling me upright to your chest, you jerk my head to the side. Your teeth clamp down on my neck, giving me what I crave; you detonate your reward inside of me. I relish every spasm you body produces.

Both of us struggling to breathe, we collapse onto the bed.

You roll off me and I turn over. Sweating, deliciously satisfied and trying to catch my breath, my eyes close. Exhaustion overcomes me and I curl my body close to yours.

“Mmm, I love you baby. I’ve missed you.” I mumble through a yawn.

“I miss you too, baby.”

I sleep, deeply and you fill my dreams.

* * *

The morning light fills my room and that familiar soft hum of the air conditioner is still present. I wake and I’m alone in my bed. Jolting up, I look around frantically for you. Where are you? I know you were here. Grabbing for the pillow next to mine, I press it to my face and inhale. I smell you.

You were here. Weren’t you?

I rise sullen from my bed, heading to the bathroom. The evidence of our love making is still present between my legs and my body aches with that familiar soreness.

I smelled you, I tasted you. You were here! You must have been!

Your words ring in my mind, “I miss you too, baby.”

And then haunting reality dawns.

It’s not possible for you to have been here. It’s been a year this month that you left, ripped from my arms before I was ready to let you go; stolen from the world and your family.

With tears streaming down my face I realize… it was a dream, or maybe a torturous nightmare.

You’re gone.