ripe morning

My clit is like a ripe grape this morning, juicy fruit, pop, not a cherry, but the stuff of swollen dreams, slumbered screams scattered through the bedsheets.

I lie in bed, warm, spread my legs my pussy drenched I don’t remember. It must have been about you.

A pinch to my nipple sends shock waves through my belly, straight to my cunt, my core being. The first. Kindling. I want to be your come-slut.

In scene two, you have grabbed my feet and pulled me to the end of the bed, where you kneel and devour my pussy, fingers roughly responding to my greedy lust. Fuck my ass. Yes, just like that. exactly like that. precisely. like. that.

I knew you’d hold me down, make me open, keep me there, raw, ready, make me swell, squirm, surrender.

“You want to be used, my little naughty?”

Oh I do, a steady succession of cock, assorted shape, assorted size, assorted whimpers, moans, muffled cries, at last, it is loud, I know, and you are holding my hand here on earth..

Use me last, love, you, lust lucky me as you watch what you have created.

I wish you were here. You are here.

wind

The windows rattle with each gust, wind restless, wind will not let me rest. I lie sleepless with the creaking shutters, the screen door that has not caught downstairs. Too lazy to leave my bed, I lie awake still listening, fearful, until I think the door might tear right off its hinges.

The stairs are warm, to my surprise, as I creep out, stairs so familiar, so welcoming, welcoming as the front door, the screen door now that I lock shut, if only for this night. Night now softer in the glow of a street light, wind ferocious, but it is my match, yes, my match now that I can see it clearly.

From the window below, the stars grow, bright in the sky cleared by the force, the cold bracing, embracing me as I unhitch the door, let it swing open, my hair blowing as I walk down to the path, the cold slap across my face, the searing heat beneath skin, your kiss, your violent lust.