touch speak

the angry black
truths
swirling deep inside
my voiceless soul
rest willingly
beneath
your tenderness
touch me
press your love
into my skin
with the brush
of fingertips
light as feathers
the work they do
there
here
oh, everywhere
will never be seen
but the ripple
beneath the surface
is an undercurrent
flush with
medicine
to cure the mute
heated
and sped
throughout me
give me the reason
to ignore
my own
hateful thoughts
wrap me
in want
don’t grip me
in fear
my turbulent heart
is starved
for
your gentle hand
touch me
kiss me
find me
and I
will say
everything

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Pop Pending. by amie-faerie via DeviantArt.com

Waiting is a game best left to the protagonists. They are methodical in their introspection, which of course is fascinating. But only in small doses for those in the world stripped of will and purpose.

The good guys can tolerate the doldrums of time wasted. For the rest of us, the ambling majority, the true posture of patience is pretty much impossible.

But give us something sweet to suck on while we wait, and that is a whole different story.

I’m not the first, and I won’t be the last. It started with a ride on a bus. I sat two rows behind them, sweating and cursing under my breath when the bus overheated one Wednesday in August.

Her laugh gave me something to absorb besides the sweltering heat. I was drawn in by her luscious disregard for her surroundings, and I listened as he told a story about punching a brute at the top of a hill, one summer day just like that one, then watching him stumble down the rocky face, crying for his mommy.

I could almost hear the little bully’s wails in between her giggles and sighs.

And that first drink led me to follow them off the bus. All the way to her home.

He kissed her against an elm tree growing thick and full next to her front steps. The branches cradled their shoulders, hiding their lips from view. But I watched from a tree away as her leg wrapped around his, drawing him closer and closer until there was nothing between them but heat.

Guilt and embarrassment took me right past them at a pace that left me breathless when I turned the corner.

But weeks, then months passed, and I found myself there. Again and again. Waiting for another sip, another taste. One more glimpse of someone else’s delicious world.

I stood at the gate to the tiny alley that ran beside her building, the angry bite of late autumn making my cheeks and fingers red and raw, and I watched. He scraped a thick layer of frost from her windshield while she teetered on the stoop, sucking on one of those horrid skinny cigarettes and touching her bare throat.

She never dressed appropriately for the weather. But I suppose some people just carry too much heat inside their beautiful bodies to be bothered by the chill in the air.

They did this often, and despite my every attempt to give up this deplorable addiction, I continued to ogle them nearly every morning. My alarm went off at 5 and I was perched in my spot at the edge of the alley by 6:20.

Unless I’d fallen asleep in her back garden.

He would finish with the scraper and slide it into his back pocket. She’d toss her filter in the street. He’d bend to pluck it out of the gutter, shaking his index finger at her until she stepped off the curb and stuck her tongue out at him. Giggling. Cheeks rosy from more than just the temperature.

She was as predictable as ever. But not him.

He shook his head this time and stooped down so that his eyes were level with hers. He whispered to her, I could never hear what he said, even as the depth of his voice rumbled through my belly, but she cupped her hands in front of her and lowered her eyes. So obedient.

His gaze skimmed the street, forcing me back into the shadow of the alley, as he slipped the butt into her palms, drawing them together and lifting them into the air above her lowered head.

Like a magician’s assistant in a turn-of-the-century sideshow, holding up an invisible apple for the blade or bullets first strike. Trembling with something I felt in the pit of my own belly.

I imagined what he might be saying into her ear. “Don’t drop it again, little girl.” I didn’t need to see his face. It was branded into the backs of my eyelids. I could never be free from it.

His long, slender fingers played in her hair while he slipped his other hand beneath the hem of her skirt.

I’d never seen her protest, but there was a first time for everything. She whimpered and said something that brought his eyes back to hers, as his fingers tightened in her hair, tugging her head up to meet his glare.

My own thighs trembled and I used every ounce of my willpower to hold back a groan.

I knew it was wrong, this sick fascination with him. And her. I’m not insane, after all. Just a lonely voyeur with too much time on my hands.

But I had gotten more brazen, watching their windows and sitting on her back stoop to listen to them make love as I touched myself in the dark. I could envision the actions that went with each sound, I could imagine his expression in the amber light they always left on, as his fingers squeezed the sides of her throat and his body pressed against, inside, and around her.

I could even feel his fingers just then, as I watched them in this stolen moment, half a dozen yards in front of me.

He bent forward and kissed her on the cheek as he pulled her arms down and plucked the cigarette from her palm.

The look on her face made me whimper.

“Have a good morning, Lil. Don’t be late for work.”

He always was so fucking frustrating with his exit.

She saw me that morning. I’m sure she had a thousand times, but that day, she locked eyes with me. And I felt something inside me break.

I tried to turn and go, but I was frozen. Locked in the gaze of this woman I wanted to be. Coveting everything about her, down to the smooth, olive skin she got to live inside of. She stared at me long enough that I thought she might scream, or call to him. But she only stood there.

It was the first time I’d ever seen him turn back to her after saying goodbye. His exit was final, always. But this time he turned, walked back to her, and dropped his forehead to hers. And I heard him as if his head was bent to my own.

“I need you.”

Her eyes found mine again as that tiny, mischievous smile played on her lips. She slipped her fingers into his beard, kissed him in a performance worthy of an ‘R’ rating, then broke away breathless.

“Let’s call in sick.”

And from that day on, that wicked woman became my dealer in a drug that I’m not sure I’ll ever be strong enough to kick.

I’d never hurt either of them. After all, if they were gone, what would I wish for?

Nothing is quite as colorful and vibrant and real as someone else’s bubble. Even if you have everything you could ever want, there’s someone, somewhere, with more.

Down There

Down There by podraz via DeviantArt.com
Down There by podraz via DeviantArt.com

Patient whispers.
Gentle whimpers.

Soft sweeps of your long strong fingers
Across tender, slippery, swollen flesh.

Your breath, hot and moist
Teasing and taunting
My joy.

Kiss me Daddy.
Kiss me there.
Yes, down there.

Let me feel your hunger.

Let me quench your thirst.

Kiss me where my own hunger
Knows no satisfaction.

Kiss me where you
Thrill me with the heat of
Your perfect seduction.

Burn me with that
Sweet Fire
That only you possess.

Then douse me with
The cool, slow build
Back up to

Unending
Bliss.

Steal my kiss

His breath against my sweet skin
Ignites an inferno within
A burning need that seems ever present
Just waiting to be ignited
By that simple gust of air.

His fingers tempt and tease me
While also locking me in place
I cannot deny, I must surrender
But sometimes I try
When his hand is in my hair.

I’m lost inside this pattern
Of breathe, pinch and pull.
When his thumb grasps my chin
And he lifts my eyes
Locking me in his beautiful, piercing stare.

I melt beneath his fixation,
His soft lake water gaze
Warm and comforting
In familiarity and knowing.
Not like monotony, but like coming home.

You are mine, I am yours.
I am breathless with want
Suffocating under the need
To be fed… to be kissed.
His lips… where are his lips?

My mind spinning, thoughts reeling,
I try to focus, to seek out
That which I need more than anything.
But he rises up over me
And holds my face between his hands.

His determination glides
Into the heat of my desperation
And as he thrusts deeply
Filling and soothing that ever present ache
His mouth finally hovers over mine.

He slows, breathing my air,
Inhaling my magic, exhaling his love.
And my whole body rises to meet him
To beg for him and offer myself
In this, our most perfect connection.

And when I do, finally surrender,
Experiencing that blissful contact
When our mouths touch
And our souls embrace…
He steals my kiss!

And with it,
takes me to those places
That only
He
Can.

image
So kiss me by Emily Wendy via DeviantArt.com

Your perfect kiss

true_kiss_by_karl_filip-d5g1aia[1]

Like a healing balm
Soothing hurt
Calming worries
Rejuvenating my heart.

Like a cool breeze
Clearing fog
Lifting clouds
Tranquilizing my mind.

Like the summer sun
Warming skin
Feeding growth
Energizing my soul.

Like my favorite confection
Melting sweetness
Swirling decadence
Solidifying my addiction.

Like flint and steel
Making sparks
Creating light
Setting me on fire.

Like an amazing drug
Heating blood
Electrifying nerves
Leaving me pleading for more.

Like the ultimate orgasm
Building breathlessly
Pulsing exquisitely
Sending me through myself, endlessly.

I love your kiss. Your perfect kiss.
Can I please have more?

It all starts with a kiss

kiss by Tony-Guerrero via DeviantArt.com
kiss by Tony-Guerrero via DeviantArt.com

I want to kiss you.

To kiss your lips.
To feel you nibble on mine. To trace your upper lip with my tongue.
To push into your mouth and feel Your tongue. Dancing tentatively at first. Swirling around each other and pressing into each other.
To pull back and suck on your lip.
To softly press my lips to yours and sigh with desire.
Before kissing you again.

Hotter each time.
Until I’m desperate for your lips elsewhere.

My neck. Across my collarbone. Down to my breasts.

But I don’t want ONLY your lips.
I want your tongue to tease and tempt me. Taste me. Please taste me.
I want your teeth to nibble and graze me. Perhaps more. Harder… more demanding.
I want your palms to warm and soothe me, before finding fun places to smack and rub.
I want your fingers to knot in my hair, scratch down my back, pinch me, knead me, find slippery places to poke and tickle.

I want your cock. Without a doubt, I want your cock.

In my mouth, against my tongue, deep in my throat.
Between my breasts… One of the sexiest sights ever.
Teasing Your pussy, making me want you inside more than anything in the world.
Between my ass cheeks… you know how, don’t you?
In my ass. I’ve never wanted that before. But I do now.

I want to feel you pound my ass and pull my hair and cum all over me.

I want your cum. That magic elixir that will undoubtedly, only make me hornier. I want it.
I want to be your cum slut.
I want you.

But it all starts with a kiss.

And I really want to kiss you.

Your Smile

A simple smile, on your lips.
That’s all it takes, to change my face.
An honest hope, a wistful wish.
That’s how you make life change it’s pace.

A simple smile, forever mine.
The moment that you stand and wait.
A moment that is pressed in time.
My kiss will always change your gait.

A simple smile, given to me.
That’s how you make my life complete.
A gift that pays eternally.
You are my world, love, I am replete.

Poster