Terre connue

19 janvier, 2019

Aujourd’hui, mon amour, j’ai le coeur lourd.
Non pas des éons qui nous séparent du monde
Alors que dorment les passants insouciants.
Mais tel un poids attendrissant,
Un bleu immédiat
Se prononce au fil du temps, sur ma douce poitrine,
Ton absence me pèse.

Tu es bien trop précieux, mon trésor
Mais tandis que les flammes caressent mes genoux,
Assise patiemment, dans l’attente de ton retour
Je sais que je ne puis te briser
Car ta force est celle des étincelles des cieux
Radieuse.

A se demander, parfois, comment dire?
La pluie fait fuir les goutelettes
La montagne assèche les rivières
Par le feu qui brûle en toi,
Incendiant mon coeur, ma personne, mon tout.
Je suis libérée de nouveau,
Des chaînes
Qui me penchaient vers le passé.

Corps nus, entrelacés
Nous avons créés en nous un foyer
Une demeure inconditionnelle
Toujours prête à accueillir
Notre amour secret aux tôt réveils
Arômes de café noir, sirop des dieux
Amour incarné au petit déjeuner.

Jamais ne n’aurai espéré
Rencontrer un autre ange, venu d’ailleurs
Diable, vêtu d’un costume bleu marine
Doux rêveur, amant à la main lourde
Nous sommes tous deux, Sisyphe
Chaque jour notre pierre,
Chaque minute notre montagne
Encore, une fois, toujours.

Si demain, le destin t’arrachait d’entre mes mains
Je ne me briserai pas, non.
Le temps des brisures est résolu.
Mais un trou noir remplacerait mon coeur,
Aspirant petit à petit les flocons avoisinants
Jusqu’au jour où je te rejoindrai,
Quelque part dans l’Univers.

© 2019 Lilith Ember All Rights Reserved

Letter from my lover

You are mine now.

Mine to cherish, and to embrace. To envelope.
To kiss. And to touch.
Mine to love.

Mine to lick. And to fuck.
To penetrate. To fill.
Mine to take. Now. Again. Once more.
Always once more.

You are mine to behold. Mine to ponder.
Mine to taste, and to consume.
Mine to ache for. To long for. To lust after.

You are mine now to love.

© 2018 Lilith Ember All Rights Reserved

Bathing Beauty

It snowed yesterday, lover, for the first time this year.

Walking home through the flurries, I contemplated the warmth of a bath and its timeless efficiency at chasing away a chilly day.

The crossing approaching, I looked up and met the eyes of a man. He was rough, wrapped in clothing that fashionistas scoffed at. Under his clothes, I surmised, hid robust musculature, sun-kissed skin and natural strength from years of manual labour. A glance at his shoes confirmed my suspicions.

I smiled at him, imagining what it would be like to have him beneath me, my personal erotic steed ready to be mounted. I mused at the polar opposite nature of your lives. You, the coiffed specimen, groomed by generations of tea parties and social gatherings; so close to perfection. Ivy leaguer extraordinaire whose yearning for adventure had pushed you to embrace me in your adulterous arms. But he seemed free, careless, almost innocent in his demeanour. One whose primary concern was meeting his friends at their favourite pub to watch the next hockey game. He shared the forgetfulness of those who crave nothing more than the present.

Revelling in the simplicity of my bath, I wondered. Would you enjoy knowing I yearned to warm him from the cold? Place his hand in my pocket as we walked, the pressure of my fingers on his revealing my intent.

I’d invite him in, take off his clothes and lead him to the bathroom. Conscious of his own strength, he’d run his calloused hands over my body with the utmost care as I bend over to open the tap. Kneeling, my legs would spread apart as his fingers caressed my clit and he explored me with his tongue. Surprised by his dexterity, my knees would buckle, causing my body to shake as I moaned, gripping the sides of the clawfoot tub. Without warning, he’d be back on his feet, turning me over and lifting me up against the wall with one hand. My thighs dripping, he’d thrust himself into me, a primal urge to ravage me overtaking his every cell.

The sounds of his body merging with mine would bounce off the marble walls, filling the room and echoing through the open window. Passers-by, ripe with desire and renewed lust, would go home to make love, inspired by our concerto. As the frenzied pace accelerates, my hair would free itself from its tight but, falling onto my sweat-covered shoulders. The guttural moans you love would permeate my sighs, he’d grip me harder, groaning in my ear. My back would arch, and my nails would dig into his muscular back as I tighten around him, overwhelmed by the searing temperatures of our bodies. Unable to hold back any longer, he’d explode as we reached our apexes, dying to empty every last bit of his seed into my shaking body.

Without realizing it, the bath had overflown.

© 2018 Lilith Ember All Rights Reserved

🔥👄🍑❤️🌸🔥👄🍑❤️🌸

Thanks for reading! Don’t forget to follow my social accounts. 😘
Instagram
Twitter (where I will indulge you with occasional sexy photos).
Facebook

Gender F*ck

She, he, he, she, they, them, you.

It doesn’t matter to me now, nor did it matter to me that night. You were undoubtedly a genderfuck. Generous breasts taped down, elaborate makeup solidifying a six-pack on your gentle stomach, down to the illusion of male facial hair; you were stunning, handsome, sensual, sexual… Mine.

I knew it from the moment our eyes locked, the twinkle of passion progressing in an instant from ember to flame.

You undressed on stage, slowly peeling off layers, like a rose being plucked of its petals. The crowd went wild, roared with laughter, whistled with anticipation. How many panties must have been soaking through as your act progressed and you revealed your body. Were they imagining you topping them, gently using your favourite toy to penetrate them from behind as you grabbed their hair? Some may have pictured holding you down, face snug against the pillows as they used their tongues to taste you.

In a matter of seconds, I was present again, painfully aware that amidst the lesbian frenzy, your piercing eyes were undressing me from the stage. It was the beginning of winter, and in the dimly-lit cabaret, my black turtleneck disclosed all. From the perfectly round shadows of my breasts, down to the contour of my nipples, hardened by the slight chill coming up from the stairs. I felt so vulnerable, as if the years of being a strong woman meant nothing, so long as you’d have me.

Retreating after your set, the golden straps of your halter covering your nipples, I couldn’t look away. You were a panther: feline, gracious and terrifying all at once. A Freudian nightmare that bedazzled the sea of lesbians at your feet. I knew you would make your way over, that you wanted me as much as I wanted you. You were standing close enough for me to smell your perfume. I knew.

The calm settled on the cabaret hall and the streets reflected only the noise of drunken college students when you asked me to come home with you. How could I say no, feeling your body pressed up against mine? Your left hand held up my arms up as your right slid over the front of my underwear. I moaned a slight yes as you began to move your hand back and forth, and you smiled. I was your bitch.

It didn’t matter who was man, woman, women, either, neither. We were both the daddy and the slut as our lips intertwined, parted, and devoured each other’s bodies.

Each thrust of our hips was phallic, we had bigger dicks than most men. Each touch was sensual, soft as a satin ribbon gliding on bare cheeks. Your tongue found my weakness, tucked safely behind my ear, and as your fingers slid inside, I could feel the depth of the Universe explode within my body. Each orgasm rocked the stage as we climaxed, again and again, moaning endlessly in our frantic search for erotic completion.

Come morning, you were gone, back on a train whence you came, ready to gender fuck the world.

© 2018 Lilith Ember All Rights Reserved

🔥👄🍑❤️🌸🔥👄🍑❤️🌸

Thanks for reading! Don’t forget to follow my social accounts. 😘
Instagram
Twitter (where I will indulge you with occasional sexy photos).
Facebook