Early Hours

Night has given birth to a new morning. The faintest light has begun to creep against my window shades.

This is the hour when I miss you most. My body is still tingling from my dreams of you. I can still feel your hands on me. Those same hands that touched, first tentatively, then with growing urgency. I wonder if I would feel this longing for you if you were here. Would I pull away from you? Afraid to lose myself in your touch. Would I fear to let myself go and lose myself completely?

Sometimes the thought of it makes me shudder. I don't know that I can get myself back if I dare to venture into the depths that you have promised.

Sometimes I'm afraid that I'll just stop breathing.

Lost.
Only you would be able to bring me back.

But I think that you would not.


Helpless as a burning city,
how can I ignore that the extremes
of pleasure are fire storms
that leave a vacuum into which
dangerous feelings (tenderness,
affection, l o v e) may rush
like gale force winds
You Ask Why Sometimes I Say Stop
~~ Marge Piercy



Technorati Tags: intimacy, lovers, passion, relationships, romance, woodnotwood

Vamp!

The bath has been run, towels warmed and set aside. I lay immersed, my body glowing with electric heat as I hear his movements in the bedroom, the anticipation growing. I climb from the tub and dry myself. Walking into the bedroom I find them there waiting for me. Laid out with hands that know anticipation as great as my own. I drop my towel where I stand and move to the bed. I see then, his need for me.

Black. Lace. Garters.



Hands moving over me. I feel his need.
He is insatiable. His desire for me knows no contentment.
The need is a vacuous space begging to be filled. A void that screams angrily at its privation. Hunger that grows with each taste, each delicious nibble, until it becomes more insatiable with every tantalizing bite. Then it is. Ravenous. That something unfulfilled in the darkness of our long night.

Tonight is his choice.
Whatever he desires.
He will be fulfilled.

Every woman should look upon herself as a work of art, unfinished, unmolded.

At the start of every day, at the beginning of the evening, she is recreated. Women are creatures of diversity. We crave romance and creativity in our love lives. The one thing I think we all have in common is some need to feel sexy, to feel desired, and desirable.

I went searching through the toy stores and on-line catalogues for negligees and other delicious wearables that I thought might bring a little excitement to the bedroom. My biggest disappointment was that most of these stores use waif-like models to peddle their wares and, honestly, I'm a busty girl with a full figure to match. I wanted to see what naughty things look like on 'normal' women. I always check here first because they use models with different body types.




Personally I have found that the best way to get what I want is to take him with me. There is something incredibly erotic about wandering the aisles of a store, fingers touching lace and feathers, asking him what he likes. Sharing those things that turn him on is as important as finding the things that I like. And in truth I always get more when he goes with me. Once he has helped me pick out the outfits he likes, especially if I've had a chance to model them for him, I have found that cost is no obstacle when his libido is kicked into high gear.

Then I let him choose what I'll wear for him.
After all, this was shopping with purpose. Just whisper in his ear 'I'm going to go take a hot shower. You come pick out what you like and leave it on the bed for me. Tonight I'm all yours.'

Here's a great site to fill your head with fun ideas for fetish and fantasy.
trashy.com


Technorati Tags: Love, Intimacy, Relationships, Couples, Romance, Lingerie, Sex Shop, Lovers, Fetish, Beautiful

Body Remember

Body, remember this moment. Remember the feeling as his hands caressed you gently, as he whispered, lips pressed against your skin. Remember how his muscles moved under your fingertips, the salt taste of his skin against your tongue. The low growl as he lost himself inside you.
Body, remember this moment that you shall have him again and again.

It is a well known fact that men crave visual stimulation, that the vision of a naked woman or people having sex triggers some primal instinct in their minds that gives them pleasure, that arouses them, excites them. But what of women?

I know many women who truly enjoy watching and sharing pornography. I believe that sharing is the key word here. Men tend to isolate their watching more so than women. Perhaps it is shame induced by a society that says that Rodin's 'Embrace' is art and Jenna Jamison is a shameful display of female sexploitation.

Personally I like them both. More so when shared.




The picture above is not plucked from the Internet. It came from my own personal photo album. It is a bed in a hotel room . A bed where I had spent an incredible night and morning making love. After my bags were packed, after the rush of trying to get our luggage together before check out time. With one last backward glance at that bed, where I had known so much pleasure, I pulled out my camera and snapped that picture, locking that night into my memory forever.

Body, Remember this moment. Lock it away deep inside yourself. Not dead, but merely slumbering, waiting to be resurrected by the slightest whisper of Mnemosyne's fingers against your cheek. By the trace of his scent on your pillow as you rest your head, longing to feel him inside you once more.

I see the indentation where his head had rested on the pillow and the ephemeral shape of his body permanently engraved on the sheets. I see the marks that my knees left as I straddled him, hovering above him and watching his face as I controlled the rhythm of our love making, as he relinquished the previous nights control and allowed me to pleasure us both at my own pace. I see my own ass prints on the edge of the bed where I had taken him into my mouth and swallowed him one last time before we left that little world-- where only we two existed for a few hours. A few magnificent hours. I am there again each time I look at it. I see it in shadows, the forms that we were in that moment. I can smell the ocean outside the sliding glass door. Ah, you cannot see the balcony doors swung wide so that we could hear the crash of the waves even as we crashed into one another. But I know they are there. I remember. I can taste him, feel his hands and tongue as he took me to those places that are secret-- that only lovers share.

I have many such photographs. Not of people, but of things, places, restaurant booths and bar stools, hotel room beds and sandy beaches. Places that I want to remember, moments of time that I recreate each time I see them.

A woman's mind may work differently than a man's but I know that when he sees this picture it affects him in the same way that it does me. That imagery stimulates the body to remember how incredible we were together.

And he hungers for me in that moment of remembering.

One night in Bangkok

Once upon a time there were two superhero chicks who decided that we needed to break away from the whole 'men in tights scene' and find ourselves a real man to play with.

So it began...
Supergirl and I ditched Superman and made our way down into the depths of the bat cave.

There we found him.

Dressed in black, his cape open, and Lo and Behold!
The man was a wonder to my pretty blue eyes!

And he had a fast car.
Supergirl and I took up residence in the backseat.
When who should appear but the ever enticing ...Batgirl!