Rushed sex…

December 4, 2015


Last Friday Night

December 4, 2015


As we walked through the doors, all heads turned to us. What were they thinking as the stares darted from him to me. There has to be some kind of connection. Most of the room was empty save for the men at the bar. There were about 5 of them and silence wafted through until we took our seats. Then the low mumblings continued as conversations picked up from where they left off.

As we got comfortable with our new surroundings, things seemed to fade into the background as His eyes met mine and a smile beamed across His face. Yes, he was happy that our entrance was noticed and even happier that the others could only dream about what He had. I sat cross legged with my skirt hiking up even higher exposing more of my pink tights that hugged my ass and made a smooth silhouette of my curves.

It wasn’t long before I noticed a digital jute box on the opposite side of the room. The urge to fill the emptiness of the place began to consume me with the same fervor as the intoxicating drink that was being ingested. I slid off of my stool and gracefully made my way, noticing the turned heads as the men soaked in the sight of my short jean skirt and high heeled boots. The jute box was filled with thousands of selections but I knew that He would enjoy a certain artist that was tattooed onto Him and so click I went. I didn’t even make it back to my seat before the beat saturate the bar. My body instinctively relaxed and fell into the rhythm of Sweet Home Alabama by Lynrd Skynrd.

After eating, and having the drink that made me a little tipsy, I began to feel a certain heat in my special place discreetly hidden between my legs. Yes, the want was there. The need to feel Him deep inside of me. The need to be taken and consumed by the dominating power that He has. The ride home was filled with expectations as my mind wandered into many different fantasies.

Once inside the bedroom I stripped and stood exposed for His eyes to Take me in. I didn’t feel the least bit of trepidation as I crawled onto the bed towards His naked body. The first thing was to take His manliness into my mouth and suckle it slowly. The relaxed inhibitions had my mind solely focused on the present and again, the world faded away and it was only Him receiving my undivided attention. Soon, I found myself sucking faster and faster wanting Him to reach the orgasm. But before I knew it, my hair was pulled into the direction that placed my body next to His and I instinctively laid on my back and spread for Him. The entrance into my heated and wet pussy was full and complete. I was lost in the feeling of utter ecstasy as He overtook me. The climax was only after a connection of both physical and mental beings became one with each other. He finished and rolled off me, both out of breathe and glowing with the aftermath of orgasm. Soon it was time for sleep but not before He looked into my deep brown eyes and said, Goodnight baby girl.

Source HERE

Indecent proposal

December 4, 2015


We all make them…

December 4, 2015


when I’m with him

December 4, 2015


I don’t want to love him—this would be so much simpler if I didn’t. But I do.

He’s funny, and passionate, and strong, and he believes in me more than I even believe in myself. When he looks at me, I feel like I could take on the whole world and come out standing tall. I like myself better when I’m with him, because of how he sees me. He makes me feel beautiful and powerful, like I’m the most important thing in the world, and I don’t know how to walk away from that. I don’t know how to walk away from him.

Rachel Vincent

The eternal question…

December 4, 2015


Playful Girls

December 4, 2015


Haunted Houses

December 4, 2015


All houses wherein men have lived and died
Are haunted houses. Through the open doors
The harmless phantoms on their errands glide,
With feet that make no sound upon the floors.

We meet them at the door-way, on the stair,
Along the passages they come and go,
Impalpable impressions on the air,
A sense of something moving to and fro.

There are more guests at table than the hosts
Invited; the illuminated hall
Is thronged with quiet, inoffensive ghosts,
As silent as the pictures on the wall.

The stranger at my fireside cannot see
The forms I see, nor hear the sounds I hear;
He but perceives what is; while unto me
All that has been is visible and clear.

We have no title-deeds to house or lands;
Owners and occupants of earlier dates
From graves forgotten stretch their dusty hands,
And hold in mortmain still their old estates.

The spirit-world around this world of sense
Floats like an atmosphere, and everywhere
Wafts through these earthly mists and vapours dense
A vital breath of more ethereal air.

Our little lives are kept in equipoise
By opposite attractions and desires;
The struggle of the instinct that enjoys,
And the more noble instinct that aspires.

These perturbations, this perpetual jar
Of earthly wants and aspirations high,
Come from the influence of an unseen star
An undiscovered planet in our sky.

And as the moon from some dark gate of cloud
Throws o’er the sea a floating bridge of light,
Across whose trembling planks our fancies crowd
Into the realm of mystery and night,—

So from the world of spirits there descends
A bridge of light, connecting it with this,
O’er whose unsteady floor, that sways and bends,
Wander our thoughts above the dark abyss.

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow


Since then, I work at night.
Against the glass the identical moths

open themselves up to me. The Lamp
illumines the decorative eyes

evolution has granted them.
So don’t think I’m alone.

To them I am the light.
Days I don’t come with flowers,

please think of these white petals
pressed into this pane.

Pale shapely trapezoids–
they too remember your shoulders.

If I don’t light the light
for x nights in a row . . .

Tell me what x is.
You must be in x by now.

Sometimes one travels several inches
on its thready legs–

an old idea alighting
on a new ledge in the brain.

I used to think–what thing was it
that I had failed to do?

Now I just see your body,
filled almost up with water,

harden in my arms, then break
–so much does it desire to be filled–

against the real river for good.
The eyes through which I see this

are impervious to light.
This I have learned from the moths:

open your wings when you must
and flash the inner eyes

of a creature so big it could eat
both you and the thought that would eat you.

Most of what follows I see:
how there are more and more,

how they never fly away.
Nor do they rest in pairs

Whatever made these wings
is remaking yours now

somewhere in the workshop where the thing is extracted
that leaves behind the dark.

Out there their clustered shadows
spill darker kissmarks on that dark.

Robin Behn

(Robin Behn is an American poet, and professor at the University of Alabama)

Chamomile and witchcraft

December 4, 2015


Someone asked me for a cure / treatment for muscle cramps: I recommend…

Chamomile is often worn to incite sexual feelings, also to attract attention to oneself. It’s used in prosperity charms to attract money. Sprinkle it around your property to remove curses and spells cast against you. It can be taken internally to promote sleep, reduce anxiety, and will also relieve diarrhea and other gastrointestinal complaints. Applied topically Chamomile will speed wound healing and reduce inflammation. To the Anglo-Saxons it was one of the nine sacred herbs. The ancient Egyptians used it to treat fever and dedicated it to Ra, the sun God…

And three cups of Chamomile tea each day will prevent those terrible cramps in your calf muscles.