Can I tell you a story?

Can I use my tongue and tell you a story?
Introduce the character of soft sucks
Create a setting of long, slow tongue swirls
Cause a conflict between your spasms and shudders
Build a plot of varied paced tongue rotations around your nib
Establish a theme of unhurried, focused pleasures
Can I use my tongue and tell you a story?

chakras

She is Africa.
Legs longer than the Nile.
The soil of her soul is where minerals are found.
Diamonds of calm.
Gold pieces of wisdom.
I am of her earth and long to be inside her earth.
She feeds me.
Offers my roots strength.
She models.
This universe is her catwalk.
I watch her strut. No. glide.
Slient.
Floats on melanin.
She is the new black.
She is the old black.
Her spirit aligns me.
I want to make love to her chakras.
I want to slide into her red.
Glide into her orange hue.
Taste it.
Converse with her yellow.
Busk in its glow.
Kiss her green.
Heal it with the lips of my nurturing.
Caress her blue.
Touch it. Feel its pulse. Its vibration.
Open the legs of her purple.
Go deep inside her.
Touch her roof. Her crown.
Give her long strokes until she orgasms white light.

Nubian Superwoman

She wears an ankh on her chest.
She’s a Nubian superwoman.
Melanin is the source of her super powers.
Her third eye gazes into my penial gland.
Sapiosexual seductive allure.
Lips of African coco-mango-brown sugar.
And lips of black rose-ebony-honey-yoni goodness.
I want to kiss both.
Taste her and taste her.
Lord forgive me for I want to be baptised in the wetness of her intellect. Slide deep inside her chakras.
Cause her third eye to roll backwards. Give her a mindgasm.
She wears the eye of Horus on her arm. Inked.
Egyptian goddess wearing Egyptian Goddess symbol.
Her figure is pyramid architecture design.
A wonder of this world.
Not of this world.
She makes my mind erect.
Causes my body to think. 

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