February 26, 2009 § 5 Comments
He takes his time with her.
Even when the moonlight settles against the swaying illusion of the dark oak trees.
His hands searching through her layers when she’s vulnerable and falling.
Keeping her his secret.
Her existence only captured between the pages of his diary.
Her wrists tied against him.
Her echoes of pleasure tumbling into the world around them.
Escaping and running like wild horses into arched fields of purples and greens.
Their obsession and lust caught in a tight web of silver and rain.
Pictures of her body lifting and curving to life against the power of his body and strength.
His lips and hands his teachers.
Running along her.
Painting her beauty.
As he makes her cum.
Her screams falling.
Her passion exploding.
Only for his eyes too see.
© Copyright of Charlotte Thorpe