My Master

•July 2, 2012 • 1 Comment

He swam into me

Like an ocean that one wades into

Like he found a parting and had to make a dash for it.

He penetrated my eyes and I surrendered

There was magic in them. Hope and the promise of joy.

Sheets found the floor, rage held us together, his arms caressed my hips.

There is such a thing as being suspended.

Trance. His touch and my movement. His ability to play music. His love for my skin.

When he brushed  his arms against skin, I giggled in happiness.

When he sweats while exerting, I grinned in delight. Here he was, exploring the deepest shades of desires.

I feel the unison is perfect.

He calls my body his garden. My pussy has his secrets and my boobs are his hilltops. His flesh has played and pushed.

My universe is he. My greatest song. My fondest memory. My Master.


I yield

•June 10, 2012 • 4 Comments

He was sly. Probably stupid as well.

Here I was, giving him an account of my long and boring dinner and he made me freeze.

In the middle of the hallway, he slips his fingers inside my jeans and my jaw is left hanging.

I just stare at him and he gives me a lopsided grin and challenges me with ‘Go on. You were saying something about a lobster and your colleague’s rant

I mumble, give a half-hearted grin and collect my thoughts. ‘Ummm…yeah’. I am wondering how to respond to his action. Unbutton? My thoughts move between the dinner and the prospect of action in the immediate future. He is acting like it’s everyday business for him.

His fingers have found my special spot and I am finding it hard to keep up.

I…uh….yes..I was saying…

You see, I love a good challenge. So I continue to talk and fail miserably. I have reached a point of incoherence. He grins and waits for me to stop and yield.

Well, I think to myself, two can play a game.

I try to make more sense and say some words and he owns me. He digs deep into me and I have started staring into eyes like a lost puppy. My fingers have unbuttoned my shirt and I start demanding a new routine. I want some music, some cream, but he refuses to listen.

He undresses me at his own pace and leaves me lying on the ground.

Where are you going? 

Can you just shutup and be patient? Can’t you see I am in charge here? 

I can hear the shower being turned on.

He comes back and the madness begins. He starts this new pinching thing and I twist around in pain and then he opens up my shirt and licks my neck. He starts to sing a song and chants my name and I can sense flesh moving inside of me. I am talking something I don’t understand and he revels in my daze. I look at his eyes and his mischief and the fun he is having at my expense.

Then the ride begins. He starts to lift me up and twists me around. He tries to add adventure to the experience. I have lost track of myself and started counting the number of times my spine tingles when he squeezes my ass. There is a gasp, a moan and a scream and I love the feeling when blood rushes into his member. Now it’s my turn to enjoy! He lets out a scream and begins the dirty talk. He’s riding me fast and he’s wants me to synchronise with him. We flip sides and continue the madness. The alarm rings for no reason and we both laugh it off. We relax for a bit and let the juices flow. I kiss him passionately and bite his nipples for some effect.

He seems to have more in him and he carries my limp body into the shower. We gaze at each other and bathe each other for a long time and then passion takes over.

Over time, I have learnt that giving in is better than resisting.

(Image Credit)

His Neck

•April 26, 2012 • 3 Comments

There are days when you walk into a room and I want to let out a scream and bite your neck. God! it’s so tempting. I want to cuddle up to it from behind. I want to dive at it when you wear a crisp white shirt.

I have stared at the sweat beads that park themselves there. I want to lick them after you come back from a game. All sweaty and muddy and dirty. My perfume. My hottie!

At the party, that girl held your shoulders and danced with you. Just when the pace picked up, her hands brushed your collarbone. I followed her fingers.

How could she?

That bitch! I wanted to tear her fingers. But I waited. I saw your annoyance and made my peace. Then I realized that I wanted you completely. All of you. Every single square inch. Especially that neck.

I want to bathe it with kisses.

Tender kisses. Soft kisses. Noisy kisses. Kisses that suck the skin. Kisses that lick you. Kisses that smother you. Kisses that make you smile. Kisses that leave marks. Kisses that make me scream. Kisses that fondle you. Kisses that make you moan. Kisses that make us moan.

Then, that ONE kiss that makes you lose control.

But first, I want to own your neck. All of it.

His Lips

•April 25, 2012 • 3 Comments

The curve of his lips tempt me. I sit next to him in taxis and wonder what it would be like to steal a kiss. There they are — so full, so luscious and so beautifully carved. So full of flesh, round, soft, perfect.

They scream at me. I wonder what it would feel like when I bite them. What would I do, if they touch me. How would I react?

I would play with the curves. I would plant tenderness when he smiles. I would bite the lower lip and roll my tongue on the inside. I would play with his mustache, perhaps. And his chin? I want to talk to it. We can have intense conversations. But then his lips always distract me. Always.

How do you talk to someone and not stare at the lips?

Maybe, you don’t talk. You just kiss.


When He Bathes

•April 24, 2012 • 1 Comment

I lie on the bed waiting for him to walk out. I have imagined him, wondered about his scent and pictured him naked. I have pictured the towel falling off. I have pictured walking in onto him and giving him a bath. I want to bathe him.

I love water dripping off his face. Some droplets stay on his eyelashes. His innocent eyes and the charm within are a delight to look at. I fear getting lost in them. I fear losing control.

I play with my thoughts and wonder when he will walk out.

There he is…

I give a greedy grin. Then, desperation gets the better of me.

I stare at him. My eyes lust after his toes. Those gorgeous things! Oh God…How I want to suck them. I want to plant tender kisses. I want to lick the water off his legs. Find my way to his inner thighs. Hear him moan and then suddenly start licking him.

He will let out a soft moan then. I will smile and chuckle in delight. I know how to turn him on. I will kneel down and wipe him clean. With my tongue. I will kneel down and worship him.

Then he will lift me up and part my legs.

Then, I will lose myself. In him.



•March 5, 2012 • 1 Comment

…makes out with me in buses

…overpowers me in public washrooms

…teases me when I try out skimpy skirts in trial rooms

…bites my lips when I watch a movie alone

…pinches my nipples early in the morning

He does this all in my head. All the time.

The day he’ll do it for real, I’ll explode. Every nerve of mine will yell. Every single scream of mine will sing his praise. Every breath of mine will moan for more.

Till then, I’ll collapse everyday. Hoping to be touched.

That thing you do -3

•January 28, 2012 • Leave a Comment

That thing you do ..

To my underwear when you are so full of hunger?

I wish you’d do it all the time

To no one.

But me.