Play time…

Watching you play with yourself. It’s a classic movie. My favourite song. It’s sunset. It’s like going back home. It’s Sunday dinner. So put your show on repeat. Let me listen to the music of your orgasm. Colour my vision with the hues of your pleasure. Rejuvenate my soul. Feed me with your sensuality. 

The E  Lounge 5 word challenge – 5.3.17


Eat her moans is what I do
Feast on them
They are seasoned with pleasure
Roasted with the heat of indulgence

she spits profanities
Wet word projectiles
Splatter on the walls of our bedroom wall

Choked on lust
It coils around the throat of our desire
Restricts the air of reserve
Cause us to be light headed
Takes us higher

I whip her
Lash her with my want to satisfy her
Beat her with my urge to fulfil her wants
Cause the skin of her pleasure to sting with pleasurable delght

She begs me to spank her
Use the hand of my authority to splat her submission
Blend pleasure with pain
Create a cocktail of blurred lines
That cause her to become intoxicated

Sex is what we don’t do
We are sex
Intimate intercourse
An exchange of erotic fluids
Spasms of discovery
An orgasm of freedom

Slow jam taste

Taste her like her favourite slow jam. Have her feel the melody of your tongue rotation. The soft baseline soft sucks that make her vibrate. Let her enjoy the harmony of your lips on her nib. Sing to her pearl with delicate swirls. Slide your tongue into the wetness of her chorus. Taste her like her favourite slow jam 


We are laces. Bound to each other. Our sex leaves us in knots. Tangled. We form loops. Crisscrosses. Dangling over the edge of our bed. Sometimes we become so tightly tied we are left tucked to the shoes of satisfaction. We fuck like laces on a fresh pair of Jordan’s. Take flight. Soar. Slam dunk moves on each other. Other times we are laces on a pair of timberlands. Worn rugged. Get dirty. Then next we are laces on a pair of classics. We make love like 90s fashion and music.
We are laces…


The moon gasps silent mouth open wide
It longs to orbit the melanin plants of us
Float in the space of our skin’s galaxy
Our tingles number more than stars
No, we are stars
Giant spheres of mahogany plasma held together by our lustful gravity
We burn bright hotness
Illuminates worlds
Our moans form milky ways
Shudders collide inside us like meteors
Climax supernovas, a Big Bang
Create new worlds made in our image