Love Potion

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My love potion is made of:

geranium, mandarin orange, lemon, cardamom, sandalwood, patchouli, ylang ylang, and jasmine oils,

as well as other ingredients:

wistful hope,

cunning need,

fearful longing,

the surprising perseverance

of an oft-broken heart.

 

I am an uncommon sorceress,

love my only spell.

I will weave my dazzling web of dreams

for you to catch upon.

And once you do,

well…

let the games begin.

 

You must be terribly manly

to arouse my seductive passions.

But if you charm me,

I will take you

against my bosom like an eternal mother — a cute little mamacita, that is,

and hold you there in the thrall

of luscious pleasure,

spreading the length of my curves against you,

touching you

in all the right places.

 

I will feast upon you lavishly, leaving no part of you untasted,

open the mouth of myself wide for you,

swallow you heartily down.

 

I will cook you your favorite foods.

My tongue will fill your ear

with kind words of encouragement,

with decadent flattery,

stroke

your ego.

 

I will make myself delicious to you.

Soon you will begin to crave me

on your tongue.

You will become addicted

to my love.

 

So drink a sip of my love potion.

 

Then let the games begin…

You Are So Earthy

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Your eyes shine like obsidian

in the candlelight

of my bedroom.

Coal black,

lit with warmth,

reflecting the lush darkness

of night.

 

You are so earthy.

 

Your masculinity is like a lodestone,

rock hard, magnetic.

I draw you into the deep well of my longing,

the liquid expanse,

feel you drop your anchor

into the soft wetness of my body,

pull me downwards, like the tide,

into the depths.

 

Your power shakes me up.

 

You are seismic.

I am shuddering, vibrating

with rich tremors

and sensual eruptions,

releasing heat and sparks of pleasure

that radiate from my core outward

to the volatile surface

of my skin.

 

You are so strong.

 

You touch me deeper,

fill me,

crack me open,

rift me,

take me into your fiery underworld,

carry me across turbulent rivers of flowing magma, molten lava,

until I reach

the crest of breaking dawn

and my own bright internal sun shines

like an aurora borealis,

glowing,

throbbing,

releasing,

dancing

like a star

through the heavens.

California Tantra

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My hands play a sensual raga

upon my sultry body,

fingertips grazing

the bells of my breasts, nipples tinkling like kartals,

the drumbeat of my clitoris

throbbing like Zakir Hussein on the tabla.

 

Unbridled longing is my siren song.

 

My bed is a magic carpet from Vijayanagara.

My inner Tantric temple is made of molten rose quartz,

garlanded with jasmine flowers,

smoky with the scent of sandalwood,

the pink fleshy gates inscribed with lilting golden Sanskrit letters,

padmalaya shriksha:

“lotus-dwelling, place of radiance.”

 

Enter me and you will enter Shangri-la.

 

Sweet and tart is my rasa.

My sweat is Himalayan salt;

my juicy mangoes are lusciously ripe.

My hot little pussy drips neem honey and unctuous amrita;

tease your cock against me

and I will rub this on you

like a salve.

 

Suck on my breasts

and taste my sacred milk of Wisdom,

receive the bittersweet Ayurvedic medicine of my Love,

for I am a Goddess with many arms and many hearts

and many g spots

and I will eat you like Durga into oblivion

until you cum

hard and aching and deliciously liquid

all over my lips,

momentarily illuminated

with the knowledge

of Absolute Shivashakti

as I swallow you down.

She is Like Honey

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She is like honey,

oozing sweetness.

 

A pulsing star

within the vast galaxy of her own body;

ready to fall through the sky,

to dissolve into everything…

 

Knotted with yearning,

waiting for the warmth of his humanness

to unwind her

from the tangle

of herself.

 

She spreads her thighs apart

and arches her back,

hips curved up.

Allows her innermost self to be rocked

within the plush cradle of his mouth,

to be caressed by his patient tongue.

To be licked,

so wet.

 

She is purring now.

Ready to reveal her secrets.

His fingers speak to her first in whispers.

Then more loudly,

build to a crescendo

of sighs,

screams,

cries.

 

She breaks like a storm,

full of tears and windy breaths,

emotions that release

from the clouds of her body

like raindrops,

flooding out of her breasts and hips

as she falls slack against him.

 

Again she is like honey,

oozing sweetness.

Blow Me

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Blow me, mold me, shape me,

into Woman,

poured into the glass of your hands

like rich hot chocolate.

Drink me in.

Eat me for dessert, bring me to your lips,

lick the bowl

of sweetness between my hips.

Cup your hands around my ass,

carefully, delicately,

break me open, hard and wide,

then smooth me

with a caress.

Drape your manhood around the soft curves of my body

for me to hold like a warm blanket

through incandescent winter nights.

I will tell tales in my dreams

for you to finish.

Like glass is formed from grains of sand,

so is a story formed,

from many tiny moments,

all crystallized within the raging heat

of the heart’s workshop.

So blow me, my dear glassblower,

into the shape

of your desire

and I will blow you.

Forager for Love

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Foraging,
I savor wild radish flowers,
cleanly spicy on the tongue;
pineapple bush blossoms;
subtly sweet, like fruit;
sow thistle leaves,
grassy, fibrous, prickly-edged,
bitter.
I long to lose myself in the lush richness
of the forest,
in her many tastes and textures.
To dance to the wildness of her nature symphony, her green plant music, of vines and ferns, of weeds and herbs…
To drink tree sap;
to suck thistle milk
from seeds.

To kiss berries with my lips.

I am one who craves communion.
Always longing to immerse myself
within the beauty
of a different
dream.
To commune with other aspects
of this one creation…

We can share our sorrows and our earned wisdom. Our ancient secrets, that we still hold hidden.
I will love you for who you are.
You will love me for who I am.

So I disappear
into the earthen heart
of the forest.
She embraces me within the latticed canopy of her outstretched branches, holds me in her hands of leaves.
And she whispers to me, in her gentle song, wind rustling through the foliage:
Be yourself.

It Was Like A Taste

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It was like a taste that appeared on my tongue,

the sumptuous taste of sex with you,

unforgettable, inimitable.

 

Suddenly that taste filled my thoughts

and I savored it within my mouth,

my appetite whet

to feast upon you.

To eat you.

 

I was sitting up in bed,

but I lay back into the pillows.

Subtle fabric of desire

covered me like silk,

and I luxuriated in imagining the sensual fibers

of our bodies sown together in tautness,

in delicious pleasure.

 

I could have drowned

in those opulent thoughts

of fucking you.

My nipples became hard like pearls,

between my thighs I was wet like the sea.

I rode the waves of sensation

as they broke over me,

came gasping

to the shore

of my bed.

 

Your dream penetrates me so hard sometimes,

touches me deep inside.

You arouse me so much in those moments

that I will meet you,

trembling,

in the space between ourselves

or wherever you tell me

to come.