Muse

March 30, 2009 § 2 Comments

Tiny jewels had been placed on her body perfectly in vibrant India fuchsia pinks, purples and oranges, their reflections sliding across the royal hall, coating the marble floors and rich curtains that hung from the ceilings.

A strong drum beat echoing around her, as her body stood in front of thousands.

Diamonds hanging from her ears and dangling softly from her stomach erotically.

She could feel her rhythm building as her hips rotated teasingly to the beat.

Her toes pointing.

Her head thrown back, as her body moved for her.

The very few items that she had about slowly being shed by her delicate fingers.

Purple jewelled knickers.

Orange jewelled bra.

Men’s eyes following her every move.

Devouring her every turn.

Her every curve, as her body opened to the climax of the drums.

Twisting and rising to her challenge.

Her body now a maze of desire and lust, as she shed her knickers like a second skin from her petite hips.

Shouts and whistles looming as whispers in her mind.

Her hands now peeling away her bra.

 Her hands now covering her exposure as she teased more.

Twisting and turning with large black feathers, her body creating a hidden barrier.

No eyes allowed to lay upon her most hidden crevices.  

The soft beam of a singular spotlight rotating on her hips and stomach as the fire burned behind her, pushing and whirling her shadows onto the men that now lay captive to her dance, as snakes were released to her stage.

Their hissing creating tiny goose bumps to form over her body in paths.

Her feet tiptoeing through and over them as they curled up her ankles.

Up her thighs and around her stomach.

Her body shaking and jumping into mid air, her body more alive now than ever as the snakes crawled over her naked body.

She was the men’s muse.

As she turned further in the firelight.

 

© Copyright of Charlotte Thorpe

La petite mort

March 25, 2009 § 6 Comments

She needs release.

Her fantasies driving her mad.

Making her obsess.

She needs a mans hand to stroke her.

To open her up like a soft flower.

Coral pink and gentle red.

Beautiful.

Explore her with your fingers.

Write your name on her clitoris with the tip of your velvety tongue.

Or the end of your cock.

Tame her wild ways.

Make her wet.

Make her taste you with the tips of her rosy lips.

Devour her needs.

Tie the rope.

Fasten it well around the curve of her delicate wrists.

Spread her legs like the wings of butterflies.

She needs this now.

Begging.

Her head thrown back against a halo of cushions that surround her head.

Candles pushing her shadows against yours.

Thrust in deep.

Taste her nectar.

Push her.

Create her world.

As her eyes close.

Her lips part to your invading mouth.

Fuck her.

Gently at first.

Allow her silk to coat your cock.

Now faster.

Harder.

Allow your moans to dance freely.

Move.

Gracefully.

Make her cum.

She’s yours.

 

© Copyright of Charlotte Thorpe

Petals

March 22, 2009 § 2 Comments

The olive trees looked alive with colour against her bright blue eyes, the curve of their storks obvious against the brittleness of the oak.

The garden feasting with the soft decadence of early spring.

The gentle hum of the wind picking up the falling petals as they surrounded her feet in an array of sun kissed oranges and pinks, her toes curling in pleasure as the soft petals touched her every step.

This was her secret garden of beauty and life.

She could only see him from a distance, his olive skin glistening like mirrors against the sun now looming closely above them, his hands burying into the ground beneath him planting seeds and small cherry trees, small dirt particles sticking to his fingers.

When he turned for one second in time she could feel the well known thump of her heart caressing her chest uncontrollably as his eyes met hers across the sloping fields of green, her hands shaking slightly at her sudden need and deviant thoughts that were now straining her consciousness.

She wanted him.

To have him straining against her doll like body, as the breeze brought them closer to release.

She wanted to taste his arousal flowing into her mouth, coating her every inch.

The clear drop of liquid grazing delicately against her tongue or running down her thighs.

Her knickers now wet with her own arousal as she watched him dig deeper, imagining his hands pushing into her.

Ripping out her secrets.

His fingertips working her hidden crevices, until the familiar sight of her silky wetness fell down his hands.

His tongue lapping it up immensely.

“I want you.” She whispered against the wind, her back now leaning against a willow tree, tiny shades of grass tickling in between her toes.

“You want what?” Replied his voice huskily against her neck.

“Oh I, I mean, oh well I.” She replied, tripping over her own words, her throat tightening harshly.

“What do you want?” He asked again, his hands now falling to her waist, her corset tugging on her ribs.

“I, I want you.” She replied, blushing crimson and looking to the floor, covering her embarrassment from his searching eyes.

“I see.” He said, his hands now untying the tightly woven rope at the back of her deep emerald gown, allowing it to drop the floor in a pool around her bare feet.

“Oh Sir, I can’t, I mustn’t!” She squealed against his chest. Her body now left openly in her black corset, matching suspenders and french sewn knickers, each twist obvious.

“Oh but you must!” He replied laughing at her innocence, his mouth and lips wrapping around her neck and lower breasts.

Sighs now freely escaping her mouth.

“Oh Sir.” She moaned, her body falling into his utter control as he ran his hands down to her suspenders and knickers, removing them over her thighs and tiny petite toes.

Her body shaking slightly in the evening sun as it started to set beautifully against the fall of leaves and the protection of mountains.

“I will show you how a man is supposed to pleasure a woman.” He said as he bent to the floor, his lips and tongue fully engulfing her pussy, her body falling limp against his ministrations as he worked her faster with his expert tongue.

His fingers delving into her warmth, pushing and opening her fully.

Her mind now gone.

Her eyes settling on the small drifts of dandelion seeds floating around in the air.

“Oh you taste so amazing!” He announced as he stood up to undo his dark blue trousers to release his beautiful cock, that now stood proud and glistening against the shade of the downy trees.

The smell of his arousal seeping through her senses.

His body lunging forward and lifting her thighs up and open to receive him in one swift motion.

Both moans now scattering in to the air freely.

They moved with rhythm and with grace.

Locked together in the garden of secrets.

As they burst as one.

Their spirits released.

Their bodies falling to the floor.

Among the path of pinks and oranges.

 

© Copyright of Charlotte Thorpe

Freedom

March 13, 2009 § 4 Comments

Glass shattered against a floor full of fallen roses.

Their bodies scattered like broken dreams.

Their lips and hands attached and drawn together.

They only need.

Only want.

When the night falls and the sun rises.

Their whispers caught in a web of passion and fulfilment.

Petals left in their paths.

Squashed and smudged.

“I need you.” She breaths.

“I want to fuck you.” He moans.

Synchronized against the harsh fall of the moon and the innocent rise of the sun.

Moving.

Arching.

“Harder!” She screams.

His body pushing further against hers.

Tiny beads of sweat tip toeing down their spines.

Their orgasms building like fizzed bubbles.

The world around them almost no existence.

Small echoes of piano chords thrusting them to their rhythm.

“Oh god!” He roars.

“Yes!” She replies.

Their voices almost unrecognisable to each other.

As their fingers search out more.

Ripping.

Begging.

Their tongues and mouths wrapping and dipping into pots of silk.

Stripped and bare.

Nothing to hide them apart from the night that creates their barrier of true existence.

 

© Copyright of Charlotte Thorpe

Trace

March 4, 2009 § 3 Comments

Their hands tangled together like matted coloured silk.

The air around them filled with their soft erotic whispers, running softly down the pebbled path’s.

Midnight christening the grounds around them as tiny silver reflections dance across the forest from the stars above.

Two young lovers.

Their lips urgent.

Their hands tracing lines of every inch.

The forest now their lover’s space.

Bodies pushing against one anothers strength.

Stretched across the life of a willow tree.

Their shadows arched and hidden.

Garments falling.

Lips.

Mouths.

Hands.

Caressing deeply.

Sighs and moans falling like rain drops against the hum of midnight.

Lullaby like against their ears.

Only for the two lovers to have.

To share and protect.

 

© Copyright of Charlotte Thorpe

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