Truth And Belief

No Idea

I am not sure yet, that you understand just how long I will want you, love you. How many dreams I have of you. How rough, and how tender I want to be with you. How many fantasies, yours and mine both, are left to fulfill. How many times I want to watch you dress and undress. See you naked. See you from across the room and feel my pulse rise. You can not know how many orgasms, all in a day, I plan for you. How many men. Toys. Places. Some of them public. How many nights spent entwined with you I still crave. No matter how long is left for us, I will always want more. You have no idea.

Owned

My hands say it. More than my words. More than any title or name. Sure. Confident. You are owned.

I love when one of my poems from my deleted blog finds me!

Always Balancing

Every night we are together is dangerous, always balancing pleasure and pain,  enough and too much,  love and lust.

No Matter

No matter how far the fantasies made real take us. There is always another step. No matter what the barriers to their realization, there is way past them. No matter your enslavement, I promise you, there is more.

On Your Knees

On Your Knees

On your knees, an act of worship, you take me in, your eyes meet mine, full of supplication and passion, your desire radiating like an aura.

I watch you lips as they kiss my hard passion, kiss the velvety shaft that yearns for you.

I watch you as you open your mouth, as your tongue, pink and vibrant, licks slowly, up….. down…. up…. Each touch of you like molten fire, wet, inviting, giving.

I watch your manicured nails as your hand traces slowly, teasingly down my belly, finding my balls, so swollen and tender, aching for your touch.

You smile, and your hand grasps my hardness, guiding it to your mouth, wide, generous in your love, in your submission as my hand reached down, presses you deeper, deeper around me, surrounding me, your lips full, your mouth full, flat against my belly,

I pump myself into you and you give yourself to me, your body, your mouth, no longer your own but mine,

my cock swells and you feel it.

My hands reach down and pull your breasts up, find the nipples, squeezing them, feeling you moan as your perfect lips, surround my cock, so deep in you, down, down to your throat,

then back out…. And in again, my hand now pressing lightly into your fragrant hair, my hips alive, taking your, making your mouth mine, an intimate kiss of submission, your body, your heart, your mouth, your heart, mine.

I love it when one of my poems from my deleted blog finds me!

Mad Love

and then you find yourself in that moment of madness when you not sure whether to pull away or press closer,  the pain pleasure,  and the pleasure pain.  Mad love. 

Formerly “The Other Poems” with 12,000+ readers and correspondents until without warning Tumblr decided I was no longer worthy of web space..

Below is my first book of poems from the original "Other Poems" blog. You can get it on Amazon on Kindle and Paperback.

If you have any of my poems from the original blog on your blog, let me know so I can repost it here. If you like a poem, please repost it so I can find my friends from the last blog. The worst thing about being Tumblr Erased is the loss of connection.

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My corset blog was also erased by Tumblr. I have rebirthed that one too. You can find it here: https://www.tumblr.com/corsetsandkinks4

I have not rebirthed my "The Other Words" blog, which had prose, memoirs and sexual topics worth a comment or two. If you are interested in that one coming back, drop me a private message and if enough people want it, I may start it up again.

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I love conversation, but I am in a wonderful relationship, so no come ons. You would not have a chance no matter who you are.

Nothing Close to mine

Dressed less. Showing more each time I take you out. Feeling eyes on you. Feeling the hunger of strange men, rabid, wild, but nothing close to mine.

The Danger of Asking

Perhaps you suspected asking was dangerous, but here you are. Collared. Leashed. Blindfolded. In a strange place. Rustling outside the door. Enough to make you wonder. You hear something mechanical and I tell you. The cameras.

You are dressed beautifully. Made up beautifully. Lips perfect. That too will be captured on camera, as will what is left of you, ravaged, cum covered. So much of you taken less like a lover than an object of desire. Yes, everything captured. Start. Finish. And everything in between. Asking was dangerous.

The Problem With Fantasies

The problem with fantasies is that I tend to make them realities and you may end up getting exactly what you thought you wanted, whether you wanted it or not.