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Kim Stolz
Had you in my head all day, murmuring to me between thoughts designed to escape you—how futile.
You pick me up at work. By the time I spot your car along the avenue, you step out to open the door for me. No affection or fanfare, just the mechanics of basic habit. Although I pretend not to notice, I’m completely turned on by that assertive gesture. Take me like that, with such certainty about what you’re greedy for.
Later, warm against your chest, my worries seem distant and conquerable. You, your hand on my lower back, my hips taught against your pelvis. You, holding in your palm the curls around my ears.
“I love your lips,” you said. I didn’t expect that and smiled, my mouth broadening. For a few moments, our smiles brim with laughter, a release. “Give them to me…” Pulling my neck to you, my mouth arches back up to yours again, wet without boundary, tireless.
I know I’ve done you right when your throat is as dry as your cunt is wet. Curl your lip again and I’ll lunge at your mouth, keeping you suspended, within the elixir of your own sweat, fogging up the car window…
And then you take me home, game on: cuff me, lick and pull, bite me everywhere. Not the weak nibbling of indecision, no. I want you to show up for me.
“Did you really like kissing me that first night?”
“Yes. And every other time since.” You held me and kissed me more.
When you gather yourself for the giving and come to me, I’m yours. Then and there, as you wish. It takes more than a body to be yours. It takes the will to risk flesh. The will to be present for the unknown…it disarms me. When you come to me prepared for the taking, it resets me into humility.
Jane Heap
Photo courtesy of CreativNooky
Welcome to e[lust] - The only place where the smartest and hottest sex bloggers are featured under one roof every month. Whether you’re looking for sex journalism, erotic writing, relationship advice or kinky discussions it’ll be here at e[lust]. Want to be included in e[lust] #46? Start with the newly updated rules, come back May 1st to submit something and subscribe to the RSS feed for updates!
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get-along-with-sara-quin asked: what inspires you to write? :)
Connection. A full connection with a person willing to explore me for me: all the emotional senses and responsiveness, not just what turns me on.
: )
Photographer Tasya Van Ree, possibly a self-portrait. Stunning…
I tried sliding my fingers out. More than once. Humbled, I looked up to meet your eyes. That moment kept us closer to each other than to our own skin. I watched your pupils sink into an apologetic daze. But no apology was needed, it was hot. You, lying there, in full pleasure, devouring me, contracting. Acquiescence has its special allure: I plunge further and feel your juices celebrate this reach. This longing for your body to align its desires through my touch. With the phantom feeling of you around my fore and middle finger, I hold my pen and let the ink stain the page with words that can barely approximate that space we make. With our bodies, in our heads, on the bed.
I, who often hurt without telling,
grasp my pen to record the details I could never forgive my mind for blurring. All the subtle things, I wrap them in letters. Holding you close to me with vowels and that echo of your voice, between four walls and a sweaty window pane.
Photo courtesy of Beck and Her Kinks
Welcome to e[lust] - The only place where the smartest and hottest sex bloggers are featured under one roof every month. Whether you’re looking for sex journalism, erotic writing, relationship advice or kinky discussions it’ll be here at e[lust]. Want to be included in e[lust] #44? Start with the newly updated rules, come back March 1st to submit something and subscribe to the RSS feed for updates!
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Lolita Twenty-Thirteen, Part One
Kim Ann Foxman
Palms pressing into mine, your cock dangles between our legs, brushing my thigh. My tongue traces the outline of your jaw, so good. The hard wood floor beneath me supports me under you. “Bring me this leg.” I rest it on your shoulder and you press harder into my palms, my chest lifts off the floor. Your right hand loosens its grip, your fingers wrap around the top of my foot, sliding my shoe through the hook on the wall, resting my ankle on it. The wall cools my leg. You once told me found this hook in an equestrian shop and it delighted you. So many uses for such a benign-looking iron circle. With my leg secured in place, your left hand stops pressing into my palm and begins a slow and hovering sweep across my arm and up the neck. You hold my face in your palm as two of your fingers move up and down, teasing my clit. You wrap your hand around my throat as your cock enters me, unceremoniously. Your desire is blunt and you ride me high on it. One of your breasts bangs against the back of my thigh and this alone is enough to keep me wet, your nipple so close to the back of my knee. You loosen your thumb on my throat, your cheeks flush. Fucking me like this, I’ll never want to do without you. Without this room in which we have fucked under that blanketing sense of knowing—that relentless desire to possess untamed thought. I trust you in this room, on this floor.