Theatre

In her head he was an obsession, a dark play-thing wrapped in glittered silk with a diamond bow.

Her hands racing through the pages of her open diary.

His name.

Taste.

Her stockings lost, rolled to far down.

Skirt pulled up around her waist.

His face.

Smell.

His tongue dancing across her thighs.

Her mouth wrapped around his cock.

Silky.

Delicate.

Lovers now lost.

Fantasy behind drawn back curtains.

 

© Copyright of Charlotte Thorpe

Possession

Lost against the whispering light of the candles, her body arched beautifully against his every touch, the soft glow of the emerald pendant sparkling softly around her neck as she pushed further against the length of his cock.

Her hands grabbing frantically at the soft skin on his back, leaving a mixed canvas of scratch marks.

Both lost against the pleasure they were both creating.

Their lips moulding like multicoloured oil paints.

He loved to paint her like this.

Abandoned.

Lost.

Needy.

He loved her like this.

 

© Copyright of Charlotte Thorpe