I long for the hard wetness of your tongue pressing against me, reaching out to me, into me.

I relish the knowledge that I am opening: opening myself to you, to your desire: your lust and your love and your need and your control.

I am enthralled by the lightness of your touch and the darkness of your eyes and the softness of your skin and the firmness of your grip, of your hands on my body.

I adore you, and the transformations you bring about in me.

I am full (of desire).

I am full (of need).

I am empty and I long for you.

Is there ought else I can do?

Photo by W. Merganser

~ by Molly Montrevoir on January 3, 2007.

2 Responses to “Longing”

  1. Really hot and cute

  2. A single blossom splendid yet
    only one in the garden’s bounty
    open, sun-drenched, full and fine
    for one day
    only time running out
    only the butterfly
    flits and flies and lights and
    stems approaching darkness

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