And the Softness

It was so not like her

to be so bold, but then again I was not expecting

the softness of her to feel

so commanding against me;

She was ripened fruit, giving way to the slightest

pressure,

She was an ambivalent stoicism within walls of pillow

clouds--

She was broken

And so was I

but we fixed each other, yes we fixed each other with

honey and glue binding us together within

our thighs.

But there was no core of strength in the way

her tongue trailed along my spine

and found glistening thunder

beneath folds of sky

and only then did I feel the quaking earth

die beneath me,

only then did I feel God...

But God, she said, has nothing at all to do with all of this;

So she was right again, spearing me like something stuck

on a spit,

fingers tasting my insides,

tongue caressing my outsides

on all sides

and I said it again, I called out and prayed to God.

And she smiled and told me that I must only pray now

to gods of love as her hands found my face;

gods of war as her knee nestled snugly between my swollen lips

and the gods of pleasure,

gods of the sea, as she lapped at my slick shores...

and I prayed to them all;

I muttered my prayers and thanked them

for slippery slopes nestled in between and mounds of

flesh to envelope in warmth,

of knees, and crooks of arms and napes and insoles

breasts so malleable and languorous in my mouth,

hot breath, insistent flesh...

but mostly I thanked them for musky warmth mingled with

soaked, slick bodies

and the softness. I can't forget the softness.

(c) Trinity Wolf

Ask for What You Get

What I want.

What do I want.

Do I want?

I want....

...you to see me as I am, clothed, nude, in love, writhing under your touch; human, feminine, strength, beauty and tenderness.

I want you to start at the bottom and work your way up...

...but only if you started at the top in the first place.

I want you to mind-fuck me all week long

until I'm writhing in my chair, rubbing the phone on my breasts...

until the computer screen is fogged, yes, mind-fuck me all week long.

I want you to feel me when we're together, pay attention to the small sounds I make when you do something right; pay attention to the big sounds I make when you're getting me--feeling me, just right. Feel my need for you to overwhelm me. Feel my need by looking into my eyes and telling me through them that you know who I am and you want to be inside me because my insides are as beautiful as my outside.

I want you to know how you make my lower body feel when you write or say small things that tell me you want me. My legs become alive and what's between them shudders and moistens and has a tingling need to be touched by you.

I want you to pay attention to all the parts in between the good ones.

I want you....

paix

Lie To Me

She knew he lied by the way he kissed her

because lying tongues

never lie.

And she felt his hands pull and push in the softest of ways

belying how hard his eyes penetrated

when she had to believe,

until she made it harder, demanding it.

Light blue skin hovered in a dish of heavy syrup,

caramelized lust wrapped in a box

with a bow;

a gift to her senses.

He turned her over and began at her feet

washing them with his mouth

edging his way up until he could part her

enter her.

She held the pillow to her,

imagining her lover

whispering all of the things

he could not,

the illusion of forever

tossed behind glass

the color of the ashes of roses.

He slid into soft wetness

copious copulation

with streams of honey glazing his face,

and he could not speak in his moment of truth

but she could always come with a forked tongue.




© Trinity Wolf

Swallow--a short story

Swallow

It's like clawing out of a dream that you do not want to abandon for the light of day...

He liked to be on top. She didn't mind; she wanted to feel overpowered, taken.

But tonight, she took him.

Her mouth traveled to his belly and circled, slowly, while the tip of his cock moistened her cheek.

On top and in charge and helpless all at once.

The length of him filled her and her hands worked on him while he jerked his hips off of the bed. Tongue circling the tip, back in again; his hands in her hair, taste of musk and sex filling her mouth.

There was panic riding on this wave of lust, her mouth so full, her head moving in a rhythm she could neither stop nor ignore. Heart pounding, mouth moist and hot, all the while fighting the natural instinct to be overwhelmed with his cock slamming against her throat.

Focus, breathe, open, breathe--

She worked her finger frantically inside herself and heard him reach his end. She clamped her eyes shut as the orgasm ripped through her, and he spilled inside of her.

Helpless

Moving quickly, she raised up and laid herself on top of him. The look in his eyes was wary and smoky all at once, and she smiled as her mouth clamped on his. Forcefully she shot his cum into him and his eyes flew open; her hands were in his hair, holding him, moving him as he swallowed until his spasming throat took all of it in. She took him, took him with his own pleasure, and he let her.

Breathe...

La Cage aux Voyage---A Short Story

It's idyllic, the way he holds her hand and caresses her knuckles with his mouth.

Hot breath, her hands tremble with her knees and so many questions brim at the very top of her mind; no words, though, for any of them.

The elevator is slow, gilded, and she is reminded of a cage. Her cage hovers over hundreds of feet of open space as if she were being strung up in the Moulin Rouge, her cheeks reddened and her dress flouncing as they haul her up, up. Her garter snaps as he lifts her skirt and disappears under it, his tongue finding her moisture and jerking out in time with the elevator's ascent.

The crowd cheers as she grips the bars. Her mouth opens in a perfect "o" while smoke curls past the golden cage where she sits, perched on an immovable seat. The crowd is pulsing as it watches her, the man under her skirt moves his head from side to side and so does she as her dress threatens to come off completely from the heat and fire in her cunt. He reaches up, and in a swift motion, rips her flouncing costume in two, revealing creamy white breasts, slick with her wetness. The audience screams and moans in one hot-wink burst; the applause heightens her lover's tongue as he grows impatient with her trembling legs. His fingers thrust inside and she calls out, head falling back to meet the bars painfully.

And the crowd...well, the crowd goes wild.

Naturellement.

The elevator's bell sounds and he stands, chin slick and glistening with her. He smiles, picking up their bags and grabs her hand.

The room, to her, is perfect. Even the room number is perfect; the numbers slide off of her tongue as he inserts the key, the door giving it's green light...to enter.

Flowers stand on the table heralding their entrance; their perfume mingles with the heady perfume of sex and anticipation. She is back in the cage, gilded and everything French from the milled soaps to the striped wall covering. Wine is chilled with glasses, cut crystal with the word Love in frosted glass.

The wine will look so pretty with "Love" in front of it, she thinks.

Music plays and lights dim and she knows how he had worked to make it all perfect, just for her.

He slid off her dress and attached his fragrant mouth on her neck as she moaned and collapsed on the bed. Hands wander her body and lips and teeth press into her; an ice cube from the bucket plays along her nipple and the melting issuance slides delectably down her torso like a stream to an aromatic lake. She wants him to swim in her, drown in her eyes while his cock dives into her.

She hears moaning and it isn't hers; she hears breathing and it isn't hers.

The other couple on the bed next to theirs make their own music and as she watches them she calls out with abandon and releases herself to her audience, high above the air. She is her own trapeze artist swinging in her golden abyss, her hands fastened to the ornate headboard as she sings her swan song. He coaxes her orgasm from her body, then from her lips through his own and suddenly, two pairs of eyes alight on to her as her climax shudders through her, drowning her lover's hands and face with her juices.

And the crowd...well, the crowd goes wild.

(c) Trinity Wolf