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beauty love lust poetry sex women

Hands

Our hands

Make love to one another

Pinching your nipples

A tailored pressure

Enough mean to bring a rush

Of blood to the flesh

Between your thighs

The analog of the sacred heart

There I lift, separate

Explore and dance

Grazing circles against

Sodden flesh

How many could I ease

Into you? 

What pleasure would such fullness

Inspire?

Do your eyes spark like falling stars

To imagine such entry?

Your fingers circling

Soft, uncut velvet

Draped over turgid column

The brush of warm fur 

Grasping at me

Holding on

Safety in my strength

How our hands know

One another 

Oh

So

Well

 

 

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love lust poetry touch Uncategorized women

A sweet pulsing dream 

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My fingers

Holding

Stroking

Hurting

Pinching

Ravishing

A sweet

Pulsing dream

More real

Than routines

Than compromised

Concessions

They do not beg

Or make an argument

For their skill

And worth

Your sucking warmth

A route to carnal

freedoms

Kissing each fingertip

In turn

Your perfumed musk

Sweet against

My skin

Now bring your

Cupids bow mouth

Further

Deeper

Harder

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love poetry touch women writing

A Sunlit Touch

My hands

Resplendent

With informed strength

Working with 

Your tension

My motion

Unwinding the strain

That you carry within you

An emptiness

A cessation

Of anxiety

A fulfilment 

Rushing into 

Your skin

My touch is so sure

Defining

All that you are

The care of surgery

The art that caresses 

Words onto 

The page

Pinching

Stroking

Inserting

Tugging

I would

Make of your flesh

A poem

I would fill

You to 

Bursting

And 

Feed from 

The juice

Of you

Made

Ripe by

The sunlight

Of

My 

Caress

Then

Afterwards

Define

You

In

An embrace

Solid as

Bedrock

Safe from

Demons

Ghosts

In that space

Weep

Sing

Dance

Without

Moving

My 

Hands

Offer

It

All

All you 

Need do

Is

Ask

 

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A Storm That Frightens The Animal

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The unspoken heat 

Between us seethes

Peering between the bars

Of it’s cage

Yet so often, it’s lust

Is mistaken for anger

But here, we pass one another

The means to set it free.

Wrestling against one another

Mouths blooming where they meet

Hands finding something worthy

To touch, the fragile strength

That grows and swells

Like a stormcloud

Soak me with your rain

Deafen me with your thunder

Burn me with your lightning

This beast,

It has your eyes

And my voice

Come here

Set

It

Free

 

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creative writing desire emotion erotic poetry erotic writing erotica experience hunger love lust masculinity nature passion pleasure poetry seduction sensuality sex sexuality strength touch Uncategorized wildness women writing

Gospel

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All the things I think
About doing to
You
I swallow
At the thought
Of a finger trailed
Along the inside
Of your thigh
Eyes growing wide
In the fading light
The kind of touch
That transcends
The truth of our being
Meat and bone
That makes your
Body sing
To the gospel of
Fuck
Tell me what you
Want
Use me
To the point
That I am
Ragged with
Lust
You affect me
The way the
Moon
Calls the
Wolf

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beauty creative writing desire dominance erotic poetry erotic writing erotica hunger love lust music nature passion pleasure poetry seduction sensuality sex sexuality spoken word surrender taste touch Uncategorized wildness women writing

Speak With Your Hands

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beauty creative writing desire emotion erotic poetry erotic writing erotica hunger love lust masculinity passion pleasure poetry seduction sensuality sex spoken word strength surrender Uncategorized women writing

In Velveteen Dark (spoken word)

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beauty creative writing desire emotion empowerment erotic poetry erotic writing erotica hunger love lust masculinity passion pleasure poetry seduction sensuality sex sexuality taste touch women writing

A message

Arranged across
Crisp white sheets
Speaking in touch
My oiled fingers
Wielded in service
Uncoiling
With each stroke
My breath deepens
You cannot know
The control it takes
To simply touch you
A focus like
Surgery
The light across your skin
Beguiling as your face
Close your eyes
Surrender to
My strength
Ten points of
Exquisite torture
Slow as anticipation
You are safe in my hands
My bold wandering
Finds all your
Sweetest spots
Across
Against
With a gentle force
Within
Deliberate
Angled with my palm
Downwards
A slow convulsive wonder
As my fingertips
Send a message to Grafenberg
And your body answers
An immature urge
Was to penetrate
But my passion
To touch
Is indulged here
Until you roll with
Eyes shining with bliss
And invite
Without speaking
For me to taste

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beauty desire dominance emotion empowerment erotic poetry erotic writing erotica hunger love lust masculinity passion pleasure poetry seduction sensuality sex strength surrender taste Uncategorized wildness women writing

Not A, but The

Your strength

In character and limb

Is such that you are

Able to relinquish it.

To let go

Surrender to

My authority

Cossetted

Stroked until

Your back arches with

Bliss

I know when to play

The gentlest of touches

And when you need

To be held

Firm and controlling

Almost idle with power

I leave marks

Not from anger

But a passion that could

Wrestle anger and choke the

Air from it’s lungs.

I don’t be a man

To you

But

The

Man

To give you the

Pleasure that terrifies you

Not in the giving

But the idea of it

Leaving your skin

 

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beauty creative writing desire dominance emotion erotic poetry erotic writing erotica fiction hunger love lust man masculinity men passion pleasure poetry purpose seduction sensuality sex surrender touch women

Pleasure’s Ironies

What you’ve kept
Was apparent
In the anticipation
That made itself
Known in each
Look.
I quietly conquer
You and you surrendered
Offering your wrists
To better fit
Their restraints
And how you
Wish to be handled
Wrestled with
To see my primal
Want unleashed
To be tested
Taken with rough
Hands pinning you
To the mattress
To take the weight
Of my desire and
In doing so
To take flight
Alive to the irony
That bound and obedient
You’ve never felt so free
Exposed and open
A playful shudder
And how I fill you
Makes you blush in
Recollection
Don’t imagine this
In my rough bear voice
And all that goes unsaid
Better translated into
A touch that has an aftermath
You’ll see in the mirror