Ode to the Areola

March 22, 2020

Dark pigmented nebula
deepening around the nipple
after childbirth, purple
haze surrounding
the storm’s eye

not to be confused with
aureole — that crown of light
radiating from saints’ heads
in certain medieval paintings
from the Latin aureolas
derived from aurum
meaning, ‘gold’

which is also the root for oriole —
those amber-plumed passerines
flashing against late July’s foliage
aging from Kool-Aid lime
to hunter green. Until recently

I thought areola descended
from the same root as orioles
and saints’ crowns. But in fact
it derives from the Latin word
for ‘open place’— which might
connote to a sun-filled plaza
somewhere in Tuscany

and not a chocolate cloud
capping the snowy flesh
my newborn rooted for at dawn
his mouth a withered rose
his head a halo of light.

Angela Narciso Torres


September 8, 2019

I don’t have a cleavage.

If I stuff my boobs
in a push-up bra
all I achieve
is a rising dough effect.

My breasts have veined with time.

Shy tendrils have
eased across my flesh
and gravity has created
a bean bag consequence.

I remember reading
of a young girl’s breasts,
the writer (a male)
likened them to lemons,
the kind (I guess)
with teated ends.

No doubt he saw them
thrusting, impatient
with poking nipples permanently erect.

All I saw was thick rinded yellow
while my wry mouth filled
with a bitter after taste.

Joy Reid

feeling him fill her

July 28, 2019

Her aching sex was filled, her tight nipples throbbing, and she snapped her hips, lifting him as she had lifted the Prince feeling him fill her, pinon her.

Anne Rice
The Claiming of Sleeping Beauty

Exploring Sensitivity

March 3, 2019

Freeing his cock I lean down and lick. He is so hard the foreskin had already rolled back and he’d drenched a spot of precum through his shorts. So slick and needy I craved a taste, so I sate that hunger. Eager for the attention his hips jump, his cock fat and insistent as I grip it in my hand. Pulling up my skirt I wiggle a little closer and give his hands a very obvious target.

This time… oh this time when I wrap my lips around his cock and bathe his exposed head with my tongue he grips my ass hard, anchoring himself to me and whines, “Your mouth…” I’ve had my lips and tongue all over his cock and he has yet to have precisely this reaction. Pursing my lips, I flick my tongue over his head and he cries out like I struck him with lightning. Intrigued I suck his cock down and with hard suction and a twist use just my mouth. Nope. I add my tongue and he moans a little but the reaction isn’t the dramatic need I am fishing for. So I let my hand pump his thick shaft lightly and just circle his cock head with my questing tongue and there it is… whimpers and his thigh trembling in front of my eye line. Oh yes.

“Sensitive, is it?” I ask quietly, my hand moving patiently as I kiss the protruding bone of his hip near me.

“Such – such pleasure I didn’t!-”, he cuts himself off with another long moan as I draw my hand up and over his cock head.

“So… not just my mouth then is it?” I ask, my voice coy as I bring my hand down and let my thumb circle and watch his hips quake.

“N-n-n-n-n-oooooooo.” The answer manages to make it out, broken but there though the verbal confirmation is hardly necessary.

I smirk and play with the sensations; my tongue…my finger pad, my lips and listen to his lovely sounds as his fingers dig into me and he gasps and whines my name. “It sounds so good for you, love.” He fights for the “yes”, between panting breaths and harsh heaving whimpers. I wrap my fist around his cock and smile to myself as I nuzzle the crease of his thigh…and then slide my hand up and rotate fast and firmly over the head of his cock over and over.

He squeals for me. Squirms. There are no words and all his leg muscles tremble while his arms and hands lock. I’m torturing him with exquisite pleasure and it feels like home. I’m so wet listening to the sound of his cries, so aching feeling him cling to me. He isn’t cumming, he’s on edge and while I’m fascinated and wondering how long I can keep him there on this precipice…I relent. I let go and turn and kiss him softly.

“Such a good boy. Letting me play with you. You can have a break now.” I nuzzle him, nose to nose and his fingers tremble on my arm as he holds on to me and thanks me. I check in with him, see how he feels, if he needs anything, and when he says he’s good I kiss his lips lightly and run one index finger over his nipple.

“Ooooohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh,” he shivers in my arms.

“What’s this now? All that made your nipples sensitive?” I sit up a little higher against him and he blinks owlishly while he processes the sensations.

“I guess so?”

I lean over and lap at his nipple and he moans. I suck and he moans harder. “Hmmm… how about teeth?” I graze lightly with my teeth and his body wracks under me again with shudders. I play with him, my beautiful toy. Experimenting with pressure, with sensation of cold air on wet freshly sucked nipple, with slightly harder teeth, with touch and nails, and like his cock my tongue lapping steadily makes his hips leave the bed.

I look up at him, my left hand on his cheek I let my thumb affectionately trace his jaw. “Look at me.” He does, his head lifted and framed a bit by my hand and I bring my right hand to my lips near his chest and smile…and then lick my palm. “Now take it”, I snarl. My right hand goes directly to his sensitive cock head and massages, my mouth returns to his nipple and his whole body jerks like he’s being electrocuted by sensation. I nip quickly and lift my head, “take it all, just a bit more” and jerk his cock and tongue his nipple and watch him burn and dance in my arms.

Den of iniquity

Oh, dear me –

November 21, 2015



June 7, 2015


Look provocative…

May 13, 2015