February 2012
6 posts
I know of a perfect resting place for your lips. Over my nipples.
There’s this neat trick you’ve learned recently. And I fucking hate you for it. When being intimate and the feeling gets overwhelming, it’s normal to reach out for something other than your partner. Something to grip or bite; because this act helps you control the welling heat inside your skin. But lately you’ve realized these small gestures in bed. And I don’t know if you’re aware you do it, but...
Perhaps my pores will close up in the hopes of keeping a part of you with me always. I can’t believe you have to go for a while. I’m certain my body will long for you and that my fingers will never be enough. I need you. Especially on the rainy and snowy nights. These trains that run by the apartment will remind me of our drowned unified moans and the pounding headboard. And my heart will ache...
“A threesome?” you ask “Yeah, a threesome.” “No.” And you look me dead in the eye. I part my lips wondering if “why?” is a good idea. “Because as long as you’re with me, I’m not sharing you. It’s just you and me, always.” You’re so sexy and you don’t even try.
I want to leave private signatures on your skin. Bruises on the back of your knees from my nails and teeth marks on your collar bones.
You’re on a runway somewhere in New York right now and it’s tragic. My phone is useless. I can’t hear your voice or see you. I can’t look into your eyes and feel our comfort and our history. I can’t handle this emptiness next to me. These sheets smell like you and I’m dreading the thought of doing laundry today. Perhaps I’ll do it tomorrow or the day after that. I can’t sleep without the smell of...
January 2012
1 post
1 tag
Hi. I got your fanmail. Thank you. I’ll be back soon.
August 2011
3 posts
I want him. I need him. And love them. But I dare not dream to be with a writer. Writers feed you delicate words when in love. And when the love is gone, I would have no chance of survival like a fresh sharpened blade tugging against red meat. Writers are emotional killers when they want to be. I should know. I do it often.
Underneath these tights is nothing but my bare skin. Bare skin that longs for your fingertips. In this dim lit room with blaring music and an intoxicated audience, I’ve got nothing but eyes for you. Watching your lips move by the bar while you converse, mine part in anticipation. I wore this dress for you tonight, can you tell? It grips every curve tightly and abruptly ends right at the...
This could sound so terribly wrong, but I need to say it. I’m sometimes an overly passionate lover. And all I’m looking for is someone who is the same. I need a lifetime with a lover who realizes that sex isn’t all about an orgasm. And that if anyone should orgasm first, it should be me. I need someone, as cliche as this sounds, who gets jealous at the thought of someone else...
March 2011
2 posts
Dilated pupils spreading like a drop of ink on paper. He bit his lower lip and actually moaned. I don’t think he had actually meant to do that. But between you and me, it had obviously been the right move.
You could do really bad things to me in your bedroom And I probably wouldn’t even put up a fight
Can I push you to the floor? And make love to you some more?
February 2011
4 posts
He smiled. Cunning, charming yet unbreakable. “You have to live,” he said to her. “To live!” And she placed the table knife by her coffee cup and responded. “I’m trying.”
He asked me what I felt. I told him everything I didn’t.
Waking up isn’t always easy. I know that now.
December 2010
2 posts
Such an arousing line. Pulsating veins pounding like an earthquake. This New Year, I want you to touch me in the most inappropriate places. This way, if the world truly ends in the following year, we would have done it all.
I just want a senseless and mindless fuck. I’m tired of these considerate feelings. I want to feel everything. And nothing. All at the same time.
November 2010
9 posts
I’m sitting in your apartment right now staring through the glass and over the lake. I’m thinking about your tongue. Your thick, strong, knowing, hot, excruciating, murderous tongue. I guess I can sit here and lap at more peanut butter till you come home.
When you’re going down on me, don’t look up. Don’t do it because you want to steal a glance at me or see approval. Go down with confidence. We’re both grown ups. I’m fine if you know you’re doing it right.
I hold out on the words sometimes, looking for delicate synonyms that won’t leave you appalled. But that might all change soon.
It’s the raw, dirty, filthy words that leave me trembling on the edge. Watching you loose every bit of sanity when I rub slick fingers over your plush lips. Manhandled with lips parted, startled, breathing shakily, frustrated swears, curling in and arching open again, fisting tangled white sheets, overwhelmed nerve endings, helplessly tense and then-
It’s the punched out breathless sounds you get out of me. Seeing your eyes glittering with arousal and shiny slick lips when you look up at me. Half the time I can’t breathe quickly enough with the startling beat of pleasure.
It’s the ragged breathing and rough movements that push me over the edge. All your responses make me go molten. The whimper in your voice when I go down, the rush of adrenaline forcing your hand to spasm in my hair, and the quick shudder intensified by your need.
I promise never to play nice anymore.
And when you asked me if you should stop, I was caught between “no, don’t” and “please don’t” and I could taste desire on the very tip of my tongue. Split hair ends kissing nipples and fingertips caressing bare hips. I was sure you knew I couldn’t give an answer because at my hesitation you said “I’m going to tear you apart and put you back...
I know I love you but lately I just don’t feel it.
October 2010
3 posts
Sometimes I think I just wanted you to fuck “the despair” out of me.
Loving you is just not enough. Loving you isn’t what it use to be. Loving you isn’t what I want anymore.
I hate looking at you with incoherent thoughts flooding my sanity like a tsunami. Every time I see you it starts the same way. It’s your profile I see first as you’re talking to someone else and it’s like you can sense my eyes because you immediately turn to look at me. And it’s the sight of your eyes and lips in the light that comes the following, “Oh. Fuck. Shit. I hate you” before I look...
Right after we made love you turned your back to me. Did you notice I was crying? We love each other differently now. I can tell. Earlier you asked me if I loved you. I said “uh huh” and when I asked you right back you answered “yes”. Why is is that it hurts me when you turn your back and it hurts you that I didn’t respond to your question with a firm...
September 2010
6 posts
I can barely keep it together. Just now I heard his voice and when my inner thighs brushed against each other I knew his presence wasn’t for the better. He isn’t you. And I shouldn’t want to be with him. But right now you are losing this war. I love you, but my body wants him more.
I want to love. In a raw selfish and selfless way combined. I want to give and equally receive. I want to mark my body with tattoos of passion and love without holding back. I want to be handled both roughly and softly; and I want you to know that just the sound of your deep voice can get me to the edge of insanity. I’m tired of numbing down passions because you can’t feel them too....
Every morning, I aspire to pull you into consciousness with the soft pressure of my lips. I long for the moments I shudder in response to your touch.
Pleasurable raw moments. Trying to be quiet in a shared room, heavy with lust and panting to keep from moaning. The languid jerk of your cock when you cum on my floral print sheets. The single gasp that escapes your lips pressed against my neck and my stomach clenches in response to our heavy desires. Our soft, quiet and unhurried experience on the top bunk at camp is marked by our broken beating...
Your kisses are dirty and devastatingly precise. This scenario is one too familiar. Your hands won’t settle for just my hips. They linger, grope and move on. I’m unresponsive to every gesture and every soft pressure of your lips against mine. The heat of your skin awakens every pore in mine. Your damp and swollen lips don’t hesitate, sucking on my bottom lip while your tongue probes mine...
July 2010
4 posts
“I love you.”
“I wish I could say the same.”
“Then let me make that wish come true.”
“If only wishes could come true.”
“But was I not once a wish come true?”
“You were better than a wish. You were a dream come true.”
“So what happened? Why can’t I make this work?”
“Because I woke up. What I thought was reality was really just another dream.”
Sometimes I think we’re all just dead on the inside. We’re not waiting to die. We are waiting to live.
Possible fanfic: Part One (tl;dr alert)
Author’s note: A recent obsession with La Furia Roja. Thank you for liking it.
It was an early Monday morning when Marcus informed me of the project the agency wanted me to complete. The Spanish team La Furia Roja had won the 2010 FIFA World cup and it was my job to document their emotions after winning into a portrait for a photo book and exhibition in Spain. I hung up the phone and...
I don’t know how to love you. All I know how to do is fuck.
June 2010
4 posts
Sometimes, the timing is all so wrong. He loves you with such intensity at first and then later you catch up. But at that point the intensity on his end is slightly subdued. And then you tire of trying. You both drift apart. Then things end. But sooner or later the timing is just right. Even though you’re not together anymore. You both lie in your beds fantasizing about each other. Him touching...
Rapid unsteady breaths, trembling lips, I know he’s just lost within the passion of his own body. It’s the feeling he wants me to reciprocate. And if I hesitate, he will pin me down to his bed tonight until I say the words he needs to hear.
I can’t stand the thought of you attracting someone else. I’m full of hate for every smile that could potentially become a moan to your name. Am I going insane?
Knowing I’ll always be the one who took your innocence will be forever cherished. Now if only I could say that I was the one who broke your heart.
May 2010
14 posts
I have always wanted to tell you the truth. But the truth will not set you free. Instead it will imprison both you and me.
Fucking fuck fuck. I feel vulnerable and invaded. But his promise is never to read any of this. Because to do so would make me insecure and vulnerable. So very vulnerable. But he may write again.
She said “No one ever writes anything beautiful about me.” So here I am. I want you to know that there are moments I feel at home with you. That wherever I go, there are single moments I’m sure of where I belong. Like being inside you and hearing familiar sounds and you nibbling my shoulder. I know there is no where else I’d rather be because that is your signature and I am...
I’m the girl mothers forgot to warn their sons about. There are a lot of us out here in the world. Frail conniving pretenders in red lipstick and short dresses the colour of murder.
“Please don’t.” “No. I won’t stop. I know you want it just as bad as I do.” “I’m going.” “Don’t. I can’t let go” I think this is different from usual. His dirty words and rough tone.
I am a mere human being with needs to do pleasurable and undisciplined things to you. If I were to tell the world the gestures I have played in my mind involving you, I would be labelled a pervert. But that is what we all are. Human beings with intentions for certain people at ungodly hours. Even I have moments like this.