Immoveable Mountains

ed tadiello

Artist Ed Tadiello; pinterest.com

As immoveable as mountains
Worn from stormy gusts
Is my love that draws you near
And anchors your heart to mine.

Deep in your eyes is the flame
That kindles my love afresh.

There are riches in these hills,
Treasures of gold,
Treasures untold,
Refined and shimmering bright.
Is my love
That glistens for you.

Advertisements

Alone at Last

ed tadiello

Artist Ed Tadiello; pinterest.com

It had all started with a kiss. His lips on hers. In public. In the restaurant. Hundreds of witnesses. Henna’s ambiguous response to his advances did not deter his unwavering determination to capture her heart. He persisted. She pulled away. Yet all the while, day after day, he wore her down, made her promises that only he could keep and gave her gifts that only he could give. After a chance encounter at her friend’s wedding, she found him and danced with him and fell in love with him. In their dance, they touched, electric cords of passion coursing through their veins, uniting their hearts to one another until there was nothing else they could do but find their place of longing and rest, of solace and tranquility. So they found this place, off the beaten path, in secluded woods. It was here where they would consummate their deepest affections.

The Heart to be Conquered

beach kiss - arthur sarnoff

Artist Arthur Sarnoff – pinterest.com

It took more strength than Delphine realized to carry his love across the threshold of her querulous heart. As she lie on the beach towel, the sea breeze ruffling softly through her auburn hair, he scooted closer and pressed his lips to hers. His was a delicate sweetness, an effervescent intoxication that intensified with every charm and fortitude. One kiss was enough. All defenses fell that day. The waves whispered up to a thirsty shore that soaked in love. And hers was the heart to be conquered.

The glade of sacred intimacy

some1

Artist Steve Hanks; pinterest.com

Love is a current of ecstasy in a river that flows through a tranquil forest.

Deep in the forest glade under streams of sunlight bringing hope to the lovesick soul, the lovers embraced. Like ravenous wolves, they clutched with tenacious hands and teased each other with tepid tongues.

Her lover was broad and solid, a man of men, secure and staunch, breathing over her heat and swelter. “Just let my lips feast upon your honeydew, the suckling of your inner beauty,” he said as his mouth met her flesh in tangible solace.

At once, branches of the forest trees responded in sway with a scorching wind, raking over the lovers like dancing flames in a raging wildfire.

Wet and willing, warm and wanton, her body constrained her release. Her breathing escalated in shorter and quicker spurts, her breasts lifting and lowering. “Take me, my lover,” she gasped, “pour into me your ferocious bite, the sting of my lust, the venom of your love.”

The forest knew its place in this dance, swirling leaves surrounding the lovers, capturing the moment in fantasy and whim.

His touch plunged beneath the surface, as deep as her heart, like a diver reaching ocean depths. “Feel me, my love, my heart molding to yours like liquid heat, like lava that creates islands.”

With pleasure surging and boiling over, she longed to scream but found no voice. She wanted to burst but found no break. “Now, my lover,” she finally shrieked. “Now!”

Clawing, moaning, howling, writhing like wolves on the hunt, they played with ferocious ecstasy as their companion, their bliss rising to the sun beyond the forest, to the keeper of their sacred glade.

Her lover complied, injecting into her fresh euphoria, a moment that burst like microcosms crashing into milky ways.

In its wake, love washed over her, releasing millions of stars of orgasmic elation. For a moment, the forest grew silent in reverence. The birds ceased their chirps, and the river stopped its flow.

An aching moment of silence passed between man and nature, but it replayed in hearts’ song when their lips met once again, and their craving desires mutually resurfaced.

Her Book Boyfriend

Artist Edward Runci; pinterest.com

On a windswept beach
under a golden sun
bathing in the cool shade,
she stenciled a heart
into the soft sand
and dreamed of him.
Her lover was larger than life
In every way,
Walking tall and strong,
Protecting what was his,
Romancing what was hers,
Enjoying what was theirs.
Her fantasy,
Her mirage,
Her apparition.
Seductive
Alluring
Invincible
Was his look,
his walk,
his touch.
She came here to be with him
To soak in his smile
To graze his sweet lips
To make her skin tingle
To make her heart flutter
To make her folds simmer.
He was here in her heart and mind
Bursting from the page
To ensnare her delicate essence.

The Dance

Artist Jose Luis Benicio; pinterest.com

Alabaster clouds of cotton hung in an otherwise deep beryl sky as a gentle summer breeze wafted across the plains. Tree branches leisurely swayed in the hot afternoon, and the chirping of birds as they flitted about peppered the land with peace.

Strumming my guitar, I sang a dance number for Ava Lucia who clacked in her heels across the boarded wooden floor with ease, grace, and polish. As I played, I feasted my eyes upon her and fell in love with the dream of my desire. Ava Lucia swayed her hips back and forth, flipping up the front of her dress, teasing me with her creamy smooth thighs. Her lovely long curly black hair tossed about as she danced, and the rhododendron behind her ear made her irresistible. I enjoyed scrutinizing her hour-glass figure and deliciously exposed skin under her revealing white blouse.

Many times I had seen her dance, but this was the first time she had danced just for me. My heart quickly intensified like a lion on the prowl as my body responded to her dance with the fire of passionate wantonness.

Yet her expression was melancholy, so I placed my guitar down beside the edge of the bench and my heart went out to her.

Stopping in her dance mid-stride, Ava Lucia spun around to face me. If I had known earlier that she would glare at me as she was now, her beauty as brilliant as the shining sun, I would have put my guitar down long ago.

“Why did you stop?” she demanded.

I gazed deeply into her sparkling eyes and strode confidently right up to her, my hand finding her waist, yanking her into an embrace. “I cannot bear to see you this way,” I told her with my breath on her lips. “You dance the steps with anger. What he did to you was wrong.”

“It is my heart he broke,” she replied, not budging from my embrace. “Not yours.”

“But I care, Ava Lucia,” I said, my heart racing, my lips wanting to devour hers. “Can’t you see that? I have fallen in love with you. Desperately in love.”

“But I,” she began, fighting her feelings, pulling away, but it was no use. Her heart had been drawn in just as deeply as mine. “I …” Finally her mouth smothered mine as her hands found their position on both sides of my face, deepening the entrance of her tongue, which pressed hard against mine. I returned the kiss, twice as passionate, and wrapping my arms around her waist, lifted her into the air. With the warmth of her body on mine, I carried her over to the couch, where we would continue the dance, without instruments or steps, but only our fervent mutual aphrodisia.

Longing and Waiting

hdwallpaper

Morning on the lake was placid solitude. Birds chirped in harmony, whose tweeting echoed across the surface of the water to find a home in Oleander’s heart. She had been lying in her rowboat overcome by hardships, torn from the inside, crushed by every single blow of life. But here, in this place where green mountains and rocky cliffs rose at the water’s edge, she sensed the contentment that grows deep within and comes from a source unknown to most but known to some.

And she breathed.

An inhale long and slow and lovely, an exhale to push away the longing in the deepest recesses of her soul. How could she not think of him? Her darling love that had been away too long, soon to return, he had promised. But recent misfortunes had come into her life without him one after another, and she desperately missed his arms, his touch, his kiss.

This was their lake. Hours of passionate lovemaking in the lakeside inn would always lead back here, a row in the boat over calm waters that spoke peace to their hearts and nourished their love. He would hold her, and they would kiss and melt together into lovers’ bliss.

As she dipped her foot over the edge of the boat into the cool water, she closed her eyes and dreamed of him. She could see his eyes now and almost feel them watching her, always with love, and sometimes with lust. It felt good to be wanted, desired, loved.

And then a sound cut the water, the birds, the morning, and the dream. No, it couldn’t be! She sat up quickly and her heart skipped a beat. Another boat in the distance was rowing its way in her direction. Was it? Could it be?

Tears trickled to the surface and filled her eyes as she cupped her hands over her mouth. As the boat drew nearer, she saw him, his face radiant with a smile, her lasting hope and joy.

He was here.