sounds like pt1

I love how she moans
It vibrates
Deep
Subterranean
Sounds like soil
Dirty
Gritty
Earthy
Grown from the topography of her pleasure

Her moans sound like meditation
Hums
Originating from deep breathing
Focused deliberation
Centred frequency
Generated from an alignment of her chakras
An attainment of raging calm contemplation

Her moans sound like thunder
A rain storm
Precipitation of released wetness based tension
It’s dark
Foreboding
An ominous threat of mother earth rage
Clouds of lust full with freedom

Her moans sound like poetry
Elegant incomprehensible verbs
Fluent with passionate vexation
Articulate delicate surrender
Its moving
Filled with emotion
Thought
It sounds like
truth
Raw & honest

written by Mr Eroticnoire eroticnoirefollowrs@gmail.com http://www.facebook.com/eroticnoire http://www.instagram.com/mr_eroticnoire__ http://www.soundcloud.com/eroticnoire twitter: @eroticnoire whatsapp: +44 07931 054 900

Circles

I want to create circles
Use my tongue and have it orbit your nib
Whirl around the ring of your entrance
Taste you until your waters spiral
Draw loops
Until your eyes spin
Trace hoops over your rose bud
Cause your head to rotate
Coil my lips around your pearl
Make your hips rotate
Cause your waistline to gyrate
Outline spherical shapes
Move my tongue in globular motion
Halo shape
Until you begin to ascend to heave
Cause your heart to swirl
Have your blood spin
Your head loop
Breath coil
Diaphragm whirl
You become a cyclone of tension
And your body unravels
I want to create circles

#RandomLines: Coal

#RandomLines
Our love, our sex is a piece of coal.
Often seen as harsh, devoid of beauty. When heated, when burnt, it causes pollution, clouds that cause society to choke. It is debated upon, discussed with vile detest. seen as no longer valid in this modern world.

I see it as coal too…
It is a symbol of blackness. It’s buried deep. It’s of this earth. Comes from its core. It is aged. Was here before man – will exist after mankind. It is nature’s fuel. Organic. A rock that is solid. Pure. A substance so unique when pressed down, when placed under the pressure of the world it transforms and becomes a diamond. becomes precious, priceless, sort after by all.

Our love
Our sex is a piece of coal …

falling sound, rising thunder …

I love how when you moan it progressively gets deeper
How it falls down your body
Begins as a hollow frequency echoing in your throat
Gains weight
Becomes heavy
The gravity of pleasure
Drags it down into your lungs
Balloons them
Inflates them until they boom

More than / farmer

I don’t want to make you tingle
I want to give you more than simple epidermis giggles
I want to nourish them from the earth of your nerve endings

I don’t want to make you moan
I want to give you more than simple vowel sounding audible expressions
I want to harvest them from inside your vocal cords

I don’t want to make you wet

Come to my room (end result)

Come to my room
Accept my invitation
Allow yourself to be pleasured
Pleasured by me
Take all of me
So that I
Pleasure you until you become
Stripped of your strength
Your arms weighted with fatigue
Heavy with satisfaction
Breathing laboured
Thick with your release

Oh Fuck Yes!

The first word conveys surprise
It is laces with disbelief
Compressed with sudden shock
Wrapped in astonishment
Carved from Incredulity
Sparkles with incomprehension
Obese with perplexity
Glazed with panic
Draped in disbelief