#eroticism
Speak to me, your acolyte,
from high upon your chair.
Gaze down at my simplicity,
catch me with your stare.
Reach out with your fingers,
touch me with your smile.
Embrace me with your heart,
and lay with me a while...
...The gentle waves of lovers grace
fall soft across your perfect face...
...Whisper to me, your apprentice,
from the pillow next to me.
Gaze across at my paradise,
catch me with your need.
Together we painted the dawn,
but at the ending of the day
its time the curtain descended
to close our passion play.
1d ago
Jun 2, 2026 at 7:05 AM UTC
The most boring part of the day is the day time as
I wish you were with me kissing me everywhere
You want to ******* kiss me , your love only
Comes at night like a loving hallucination it is good
But will not last! I enjoy the feeling of you being inside
Me! Doing what you naturally do for me and my pleasure
I wish kissing you; making love to you; to get lost in your
Eyes! As we we do the loving thing to each other, Kiss me
Where my clothes cover me , and reveal those parts as we kiss
******* worship me as who I am, as I worship you for
Who you are!
Let me pleasure you at the night
And at the day, and grab my bosoms
I want to trace your lips with my tongue as we make love
Coupling as you are not just my sensei, and I not your student
Come and covet me as your lover and as your student
But I want to know that you love me that you think
Of me as precious
Show me the world!
Jan 6, 2025
Jan 6, 2025 at 4:42 PM UTC
I am not single
I am haunted
I am not in a relationship
With you
I am haunted by your
Touch
As this will make my
Skin crawl
In the good way
I am haunted by your
Love and your loving
As we make love
Again
And you bury your face into me
I become demonically possessed
I become haunted again
I am haunted by everything you do for
Me as you do me sweetly and wanted do me again
Tell me that you love me
To exorcism my demons of love
And of passion
As we lock lips
Please free me sweetly
From my haunted state
As you haunted me
Body
Mind and
Soul
I just hope
That I haunt you as you
Haunted me
Let me be in love and fall in the fire of your love
Let the flames lick my skin
As you ravage me sweetly
Make love to me
Sweetly
It is the only way
I can get out this insanity
Jan 4, 2025
Jan 4, 2025 at 7:29 PM UTC
The idea of you falling for me
Not just my naked body but
Also my emotions too I must
Tell you that I love you for who
You are you......the idea of you falling
For me is killing me Softly
Killing me sweetly as you kiss me
Everywhere you want sensei I hold
Your hand as we make intense and
Passionate love. I aske where you come
From. You say that you are from the land
Of the rising sun. Then you kiss me in
The deepest part of me
Kissing my soul not just my womanhood
You love my scent of my body. As you
Kiss me I see a spark in your eye as we
Couple you smile gently and mischievous
I want to kiss you
I want to desire you
I want to smile with my eyes
At you
I want keep having *** with you
My loving sensei, you are falling
For me as we just fall asleep in
Eachothers arms. As I fall asleep
I heart your heartbeat
Killing my Softly
Killing me sweetly as we
Lay in eachothers arms
Our legs entwined sleeping
As I wake up you are not there
I wonder where you are
Only to see that you are sleeping
With another student. But I still
Love you. It's killing me
Softly
And painfully sweet
If only we could make love again
But I am your ***** secret that you
Are ashamed of.
Why
Are you killing me Softly
Killing sweetly
killing me slowly
But I know in my heart
That you love me only
And that you have tosave face.....
Jan 4, 2025
Jan 4, 2025 at 7:11 PM UTC
My hair is not a raven's wing,
A wave of black, a river whose
treacherous shores
you long to explore.
My ******* are no doves: soft and fluttering;
No Promised Land of milk and honey:
there is no one to welcome you home.
My stomach is not a valley of wonders
leading to a treasure so many men
have died for.
My eyes are not slanted windows to some
ancient Eastern wisdom; no obsidian pools
that many great warriors have drowned in.
My features are not exotic
My skin is not silken
My soul is not unknowable
My mind is not inscrutable
And my body is not your muse.
Feb 23, 2021
Feb 23, 2021 at 8:43 AM UTC
You and I, handcrafted in lust,
borne of sea and blood -
you, of Aphrodite,
and I, of Ares.
The violence of your love
destined to be matched only
by the tenderness of my violence.
And my hands, war-given, strong,
made for battle,
grow soft at your hips, and
softer yet at the cliff of your thighs,
as they crash softly in the bay in-between.
And how these hands long for you, my child of goddess,
long for you like the armor of my chest longs
for your sweet mouth,
longs for your gentle fingertips
in the calm before the storm.
The passion of your tenderness a momentary reprieve
before I go to war;
and when I go, oh, the power that overcomes me,
and the weapons I will bring,
and the blood I will draw.
In the fashion of my father, as he tied Aphrodite's hair
in his fist, and
as he broke down her barriers, claiming her city,
her temple,
her soul.
The lullaby of her moans
reminiscent in your voice,
my favorite sound and
my chosen battle cry.
Jun 16, 2020
Jun 16, 2020 at 10:10 AM UTC
She waited my table at a dive joint
I noticed her first when I came in
Whatever my type of woman is
She was it
Not wearing any make up
She had nothing to hide
She grabbed me by the ear
She had me
She was either sculpted by
The Gods, or by Buonarroti
Or earth-shaking love making
There she was
I slowly drank in all her features
And stylish clothes she wore
Scanning her from her head down
I found it
Of the gems she was adorned with
The one that struck me most
Was one on her left hand
Ring finger
I didn't envy the man too much
In fact, I took it as a challenge
I could tell by her grin
She was wicked
Apr 12, 2020
Apr 12, 2020 at 5:36 AM UTC
What is a life but a second with you
in a room with no furniture but our
bed. We shed our clothes as though
they are our past and I lift you gently
onto white linen sheets. I shudder
with excitement as I slide beside
you, your golden hair a trail from
your naked hips to your turgid *******
pink as cherry blossoms, ***** as
Spring’s harbinger, white crocuses
sprouting by a winter’s stream. I
dream of you even as I’m with you,
stroking your gracious, lissome arm.
I give your neck a kiss. I wish not
to miss any part of you. I am on
a journey of love and your body
beautiful is my destination. Though
I have traveled this path before,
every movement of the palm of
my hand feels anew. I caress
your tender ******* that elicits
moans like voices of heaven’s
angels that give wing through
our gift-giving of ****** sharings.
Now it is time to touch your soul,
the epicenter of your being. I am
seeing again the provenance of
your goodness and greatness
that complement your pulchritude.
I am blessed by your spirit. We
are untrammeled when the two
of us make unending love.
Copyright 2020 Tod Howard Hawks
Feb 20, 2020
Feb 20, 2020 at 4:21 AM UTC
Panting and moaning,
your breath in my ear.
Running my hands,
over fabric so sheer.
The touch of your skin,
so warm and smooth.
Exploring your curves.
and every groove.
You’re biting my lip,
while I pull your hair.
gasping and sweating,
but neither of us care.
Silky and soft,
my fingers explore.
You grind against me,
like waves in a shore.
Grabbing your hips,
you match my pace.
Kissing me deeply,
enjoying the taste.
Harder and harder,
both holding our breath.
The ****** finally comes,
as I’m deep in your depth.
You’re clawing and scratching,
your nails down my back,
and screaming my name,
begging me “please Jack”.
Now we’re breathing hard,
and you shudder under me.
Enjoying the moment,
of pure ecstasy.
Jan 25, 2020
Jan 25, 2020 at 8:12 PM UTC
*Lying in the ground, entangled,
lost in a thoughtless trance-
there is no need to hide,
I shut my eyes.
Seduced by the sight of color,
persuasive in its attempt to bridge us together.
We are lured in,
there are no promises,
no spectre of thought.
Remind me its today.
The cold ground beneath,
carrying the weight of my tender heart,
unshackled by the grip of your starving hands; touch me.
Your hand slowly slip under my skirt,
pulling down my sweet intimate.
A sensational rapture,
—loud as the clouds,
a maddening sound.
Envelop the day like a tension film
--desperate to penetrate the savage sun,
Foolish, undoubtedly foolish.
serenade me under the shade, my little fire.
I could hardly breathe.
I suffer sweetly in your hands,
helpless, glued to the ground, frustrated,
annihilated by the movement of your hand,
those fumbling fingers tracing my delicate skin...
I weep your name, my darling !
I hear the world’s lust,
clandestine eyes watching us,
Ignorant of the world were in.
Ignorant of the world I’m in,
drowning in your gaze-
I witness the world’s miracle-
Its electric than the pinnacle.
my sweet teeth.
what a sentimental thrill to be close to you this way-
gnarling, exposed for the taking.
You go deeper,
reach higher,
my toes curling,
body reluctantly surrender,
hands crawl,
knees start to shudder,
eyes start to water, I cant move.
do you hear me my lover?
I'm begging, whispering,
but this time for more.
blind me again, and again, and again.
I kiss you gently, roughly, then all at once.
The sun boiling at the palm of my hands,
holding me down in prayer,
my screams start to clutter,
body start to simmer,
lights start to flicker,
I keep my eyes shut.
I no longer need reminding.
Keep me alive in this place.*
Jul 13, 2019
Jul 13, 2019 at 12:01 PM UTC
The Ocean waves its greetings to the Shore,
gently tickling the tips of his sand with
her wet fingers
she sighs at the contact
breathing in before heaving back
in sweet repetition
this brazen exchange
Jun 28, 2018
Jun 28, 2018 at 12:27 PM UTC
The Holy Ones
I want to shove socks in my pants, so it looks like I have one of those Italian-line painting ***** I want to do it when I go to the grocery store so fourteen-year olds and thirty-year olds alike stare at my junk as it fills the stitches of my pelvic arena, I want to make eye contact with mothers and grandmothers, brothers and dads as they shift uncomfortably in those handicap battery powered carts that are reserved for the handicapped but are often only used by the near-morbidly obese, near because they’re not quite dead yet, morbid because they can’t help but imagining my **** sliding past their tongue and what it feels like as the tip pushes past their uvula and they gasp for air through their nose because they’ve never had a **** like this in their mouth before. This would be my **** **** This would have me making lists of adult film star names for film star jobs I’d never take because I’d be busy making lists of phone numbers, the college girls I’d have my pick of ******* and the mothers and grandmothers who I’d be happily turning away from while I select my own organic radishes from the produce department at the specialty market on Vine. This **** is better than a rolled up wrapped stack of hundreds or the leather jacket I had in high school, it’d be better than when I walked down Michigan Ave in Umbro Valentino donning a Parisian accent, I can see me having to buy new briefs just to make room for this **** And my own **** getting jealous of the girth I’d be faking it’d swell up, and in the middle of ordering my four-pump Vanilla Almond milk Latte from Starbucks my gray wool socks would fall to the floor, and up from the band of my Acne Jeans would bulge the tip, just the tip, like she said when I was in college, or just the tip like I said when I just needed to feel something other than how emotionally wrecked you made me feel when you told me not to touch you anymore. You ****** me up righteously. And still, 380 women later, I’m ****** up and I don’t have a single pair of socks to wear
Jan 13, 2018
Jan 13, 2018 at 1:34 AM UTC
Garden Parkway YMCA
Dallas, Texas
22 November 1963
Darling Sophie,
Could it be only two months since I let your fingers slip from my hand as that train departed Voronezh station? I fear that this trip was a great mistake. . . .
The boat sailed from Sevastopol as scheduled. Just two days and we were through the Bosporus/Dardanelles and into the incredibly blue Aegean and the Mediterranean. On September 27 we passed Gibraltar and started the long haul across the Atlantic. The work was not demanding though the ship was quite ***** and not really very pleasant.
We docked at Houston in the state of Texas on October 9. Defecting was surprisingly easy. There was supposed to be work in Dallas so I walked/hitch-hiked here last month. But I have not been able to find any work.
The people here, though friendly, are coarse and brash. The stores overflow with televisions, record players, mink coats, but there are many very poor people here too...
The great American leader, Kennedy, was shot and killed today, driving in his open-topped car along the streets of this very city.
My money is gone; my strength, exhausted. How blithely I left you and Russia behind! I feel my lips brushing the tiny hairs on the back of your neck, your ******* swelling. . . . Sophie! May you know great happiness and love! I only ask that in the spring when you visit Krymskaya Pond, that you remember how we knelt there, how I whispered in your ear there, when the air is filled with the scent of its cherry trees that you remember what we felt there. . . .
Yours, always, Nickolay
Aug 1, 2017
Aug 1, 2017 at 2:02 PM UTC
You sang hymns of solitude across my shoulders,
uttered summer sonnets down my stomach,
whispered your prayers between my thighs,
all in a language I have yet to translate or remember.
All of it sounds in between the foreign and familiar.
You screamed of ballads of adoration
hungrily against my neck,
confessed your long-hidden elegies on my bare chest,
moaned your blues inside my dry, anticipating mouth.
All of it rings and buzzes and resonates throughout my body.
My body which no longer belongs to me.
And this is the very comedy of our sweet, sudden parting.
But I shall turn over and dance for you this time,
and promise to never stop playing my favorite song for me while I'm at it
May 24, 2017
May 24, 2017 at 12:55 PM UTC
I dream of wearing the perfect red dress,
skin-tight but easy to take off,
the fabrics light yet hard enough for
men to take their eyes away from.
And did you know that I love how your name rhymes well with death?
If my skin would bleed or sweat out rhymes,
it might as well be to the sound of your name.
My guts shall dance to your liking,
watch my blood flow like the wine
you've been gulping.
Do as you please, but please never go easy.
My body is made for the opposite.
Now excuse me, while I go and search for the
perfect
red
dress.
May 19, 2017
May 19, 2017 at 3:33 AM UTC
I empty my mind in you
I whisper my sorrow in your ear,
make you think it's poetry
Written words in pain yet plain
You would like to know but no
In protest with truth you are
You accept lies from others,
put them in your gigantic mason jar
I can't condone myself
for the things I said
But emotions don't hang well with me
Yet you still want more of my sensuality
Lusting without trust
No feelings here that are similar to love
But still, you stay and worship me at night
You want to get inside my head
I don't like that idea let's just go to bed
May 3, 2017
May 3, 2017 at 5:20 AM UTC