At my desk, I work. From the task at hand, the aroma distracts.
Perfume, sweet and subtle.
My head follows my gaze. In front of me, she appears. Framed by thick, flowing hair, eyes so deep, beauty so genuine, my heart, for a moment, ceases beating.
Across the room she glides. The hypnotic sway of her hips controls me. Over her shoulder, a glance is an invitation.
The staircase, she climbs. The uneven gait gives her walk a new and hypnotic rhythm. Her sashay commands for me to follow.
Half way into our ascent, I am overwhelmed. I turn her.
Our mouths meet.
I Inhale her.
Immediate intoxication, I fall immediately under her spell.
To her legs, my hands explore. Permission I seek, I ask, I beg–I am given. Moistness allows unimpeded entry. With feverish haste, my finger explores.
One, then two, a third and finally a fourth, finds entry. I lower my head. The taste, my God, the taste. The finest honey could not be so satisfying, the darkest chocolate so rich, nor the most expensive wine so pleasing–the true nectar of the Gods is this.
Wider, her body opens.
Her scent, overpowering.
Faster, I move my hands.
Panting passion is expressed in salacious screams.
“Fuck me!” she demands.
Our enemies are time and location.
From her succulent snatch, I take my fingers. Coated with her, I lift to her mouth. From my fingers, she sucks. Within the confines of paradise, I replace them. As I take from within, my fingers glisten. I sample ambrosia.
I need to have her.
I want to have her.
I must feel her around me.
Her body is meant for pleasure. Her body is meant for lust. Her very being is meant for unimaginable sin.
That night I sleep. Visions of her flawless physique dance in my head.
Incredible bosom, nipples so tantalizing.
A perfect patch of well-trimmed hair.
Her wet, dripping, inviting, cunt.
Her scent, her taste, her sound. Each perfectly memorized, perfectly etched.
Embrace the wild?
She was born for the wild, she was born to the wild, she was born to define the wild.
She was my last thought before sleeping, she is my first upon waking. Although not possible, her perfume, I still sense.
Was yesterday real?
In the hundreds, are the number of lovers with whom I have been. More in a week, than some have been with in a lifetime.
Why, is this one brief time, so–so, overwhelming? Physically, emotionally, psychologically… shaken, to my very core.
How could I feel so, so…..?
A deep breath, and the scent of her womanhood fills my nostrils. My eyes close, the screams of her passion fill my ears. Lean back my head, the taste of her fills my mouth.
Can I wait to be with her again?
To ravish her with my hands. To bathe her with my tongue. To kiss each inch of flesh. All, to bring her to climax, again and again and again. She controls my every thought.
Why do I feel so, so….?
Her beauty, is more than simply the surface. Her passion, may just match my own. Her body, brings me to erection with just a thought. Her scent, it is what I imagine permeates the heavens.
“Who am I?”
I am an independent, self-published teller of tales. I am an author of scarcely any renown. However, as a storyteller, I know who I am, and with that persona, I am both confident and comfortable. I invite you to visit my website,
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