RAW

The look on your face, in your eyes as I go down on you is what I want.  The smell of your dick ready for insertion, warm, the head wet.  Your thighs tight and slightly apart, waiting for my hungry mouth and red lips.  I want to hear you sigh and groan as I slowly lick and taste you.  My tongue meandering around and up and down your pulsing flesh as you slide it in and out of me.Nestling my face into your warm groin I can feel you pressing in

Thoughts, memories they have the control not me. They are the ones who's words and phrases fill my night dreams, the times when I am neither asleep nor awake but in a state of restless being. My mind overflows with metaphors and symbolisms, analogies of life times long gone but not yet long past me. I feel this need, this great urge to write this whirlpool, tornado of circling letters which once captured onto paper, speared with a pen, shall be a wonderful presentation of a part of me.

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     Its the rawness, the unquenchable, that keeps the animal forever in heat.  The scent, taste and feel of unbridled sexual pleasures and promises that heats the blood.  Its in the knowing that one will be fed to his or her fill and able to fill again and again.  It flows uncontrollable  igniting the most hidden desires. It removes all sense of order, making us into animals once more only wanting to fulfill our salacious and instinctive needs and wants.  It is then that the body rules, that commands, that owns.   It wins in the end getting all it desires, satisfying each and every hunger imaginable.  It consumes the soul and it rules all thought creating whores of us all.  I will take my fill of you... take you as many times as I so desire, a succubus, a vampira, eating and drinking to renew my own flesh.  You will feed me, then it is your turn to devour and drink of me. It will be a cycle, unending, dominating and submitting in turn.

Life Is Like A Box Of Chocolates

      Life is like a box of chocolates.  There are those goodies that you like and there are those that you don't even put a finger on.  Men can also fall into this category of confectionary.  But as in all boxes of candy there can also be found that special sweet morsel that once you taste it, it becomes your favorite and you look for it every time you open that box.  You take special care once you put it into your mouth. You play with it ( never chew) to have it last forever and ever.  Rolling it around  and twirling your tongue around it,  savoring each and every mouth watering moment.  Never allowing a drop to fall from your glistening, icing like covered lips.
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     Lucky me, I have come across a wonderfully, decadently sweet piece.  Smooth and very inviting, most definitely sinfully delicious, of this I was assured. There were instructions given on how to eat this sweetness.  The trick is to lick it gently, only take the most tiny flicks of the tongue to it  so that it lasts and lasts and lasts.  Keep it in a special place.  Savor it as often as desired and never, never throw it away as it gets better with age. 

My Young Stallion

He walks in beauty like the night
Smooth, soft flesh, firm and hard where it should be.
He walks with the energy of a very young colt unbridled and
        unbroken.
His eyes afire with the flames of dreams to come and paths
        to saunter.
He walks in beauty like the night
Passion racing through his veins in unmetered splendor
Lusting to taste it all
Knowing that one day it will all be his
He walks in beauty like the night
In shameless arrogance which is rightfully his.
Proud, handsome, strong, intelligent
The world and everyone in it at his feet.
You walk in beauty like the night.

Summer Interlude

       It was one of those hot and muggy summer afternoons where even the cob webs on the veranda corners were denied any movement,  Ceiling fans undulated the currents of steamy air around like hot vapors around a carousel in hell, circling, engulfing and choking taking away your last breath.

Needing to take a break from my work I decided to go home for a short while. As I entered my domain I left a trail of multicolored garments across the floor.  I melted across the pale green sheets of my bed like a Goya in the flesh.