In our secret haven, where fantasies entwine,
I craft my words for you, in moments so divine.
A tantalizing dance, where pleasure meets tease,
In the dim glow of our sanctuary, we find our ease.

With my fingers tracing, you start to explore,
A touch so precise, craving always more.
**** music in the air, setting the night,
Watching ****'s soft flicker, igniting your delight.

The rush of desire swells, an unending wave,
In the realm of edging, where you’re bold and brave.
Your body, a symphony, responding to the tune,
Every teasing touch, making your senses swoon.

The build-up is exquisite, dizzying and sweet,
Heightened sensitivity, making your heart beat.
You're constantly turned on, a wet, eager flame,
As I guide you slowly, whispering your name.

Hours drift by, lost in the sheets,
Craving my touch, where ecstasy meets.
Each touch a jolt, electrifying and pure,
In the dance of edging, patience is the lure.

You writhe in bed, under my command,
Craving the moment, where pleasure will expand.
Every touch, a shockwave, intense and grand,
Your body yearning for the strength of my hand.

When the crescendo hits, an explosion of delight,
You let go, surrendering to the night.
Satisfaction washes over, leaving you empowered,
In our shared ecstasy, where desire is devoured.

In this dance of self-love, a bond we tightly keep,
Our bodies in harmony, in desires deep.
Trust in the journey, the thrill of the ride,
In the playful pleasure, where our worlds collide.

A shadow crossed the room
in the corner of my awareness

A cloud outside somewhere, probably,
but for an instant, I thought that motion was you.

Thoughts of you are casually intrusive.

Maybe you’d crawled into my luggage - and hidden.
There’s a complex birthday-candle wish.

Desire owes no deference to logic

When I think of you, my tummy becomes warm satin and I know,
that in your hands, I could be boneless and lusciously obedient.

For a while, anyway.

I remember us at the beach, lounging in deep parasol shade,
how your tanned skin glistened with tiny beads of sweat
and your endless legs stretched out like a centerfold’s.

Or you pulling me up out of the pool, one-handed, effortlessly,
with enough force that I briefly flew, and how you’d gently guide me down.

“What are you doing?” I’m virtually slapped out of my ****** fantasy, by Lisa, who’s standing, exasperated, sandaled toes tapping, purse in hand.

“Daydreaming,” I answered weakly, as I jumped up to get myself ready.

Has it only been four days since I left you?
I already feel tragically underheld.
.
.
A song for this:
Ain't it a shame by The B-52s
Locked Inside by Janelle Monáe

I leave the light on,

I'm afraid of the darkness --


here, inside my head.

He thinks he knows who

he is, indulging himself --


in his fantasy.

Our fantasy way

too often takes us along --


into its whirlpools.

Nighttime grants imagination its wings
To soar far above the day's common things,
And as my lids gently veil weary eyes,
A voice in my head whispers lovely lies:

"Come, dear, make haste! This day's in retreat,
The hour of enchantment now lies at your feet;
Let your dreams run wild -- command what you will,
Sing passion's song!  .  .  .  though Love's own voice be still"

Whispered desires summon gentle hands
To caress and embrace, as love demands;
A warm breath turns into a searing kiss --
A seductive touch,  a moment of bliss

Each fantasy I conceive becomes real,
(These are the moments that Fate cannot steal;
Though flaunting its might, it has not the power
To slay these thoughts or vandalize this hour)

And so with golden threads of make-believe,
Romantic overtures are mine to weave;
Such love is mine till night opens the door
To the sun's first rays . . . . .  then love is no more

The holiday guests

stay away, I imagine --


a quite poor reason.