Tag Archive | Hope

The Forbidden Romance

Artist of the week, Mort Kunstler; pinterest.com

Ours was a forbidden romance. As a spy on her people, I would have been killed if I had had been caught by the tribal leaders. But I also would not have been welcomed back to my own camp if I had been caught fraternizing with the enemy’s women.

Our first encounter was in the jungle. She was half naked, her breasts like smooth, satiny melons, and she wore a simple fabric wrapped around her waist revealing deliciously shapely thighs and hips. At first, I startled her, but gave her gifts – small trinkets from home. Each day I would meet her there, giving her a new gift, building trust. Soon her eyes sparkled when we met, and we fell in love. The first time we were naked together, we stood in the forest, curiously appraising one another, absorbing our beautiful differences and enjoying the view. Before long, arousal overtook curiosity and we savagely made love like jungle beasts, hooting and hollering in orgasmic elation. After that day, we met daily in the jungle, kissing at first and then making love again and again, in positions that made us feel one with the jungle around us.

Never for a second have I regretted getting caught. When they hauled me away to be executed, my wrists bound with rope, I caught the eye of my love bathing naked in the river with her fellow tribeswomen. We knew what we had to do. We had been planning it since we met. Soon she would find me and untie me and we would be free. Together. This time, we had to make certain that our plan worked.

For unbeknownst to the tribal leaders, she had become pregnant and would have been killed if they found out that the baby was mine.

But this was a risk we were both willing to take. We would run, and soon we would be free. All of us.


Escape to Passion Cove

Artist George Gross; pinterest.com

On their very first night together, his delectable charm provoked in Jolanda a visceral devotion, making her heart flutter with wild affection. Theirs was a date that lasted a week, beginning with a helicopter flight to view the twinkling lights of the bustling city. Then it was off for a drive along the rocky coast with the ocean view to their right as far as they could drive. The wind wafted through their hair and a sunset over the horizon painted the sky pink. One of those beaches became their final destination, and a hotel by the water accepted cash. Finding a quiet cove where the waves rolled up in soft foam, they let their impassioned hearts break free as they tore at each other like beasts. Kisses became luscious desserts and caresses the buffet. When pleasure ripped through their bodies like thunder through lightning, their lovemaking intensified and excelled in orgasmic delight.

Inside the Ivy-Veiled Wall

Artist Rudy Nappi; pinterest.com

A harsh breeze ruffles curtains
As summer changes to fall
A whistle of coldness blows and echoes
Outside the ivy-veiled wall.

A dash of wind
Brings flames to life
By a fireplace warm and cozy

Inside the mood is set for love
Our passion the fire’s heat.

Throb, my heart, with lovesick joy
To devour love complete.

Wild Island Getaway

Artist J. Frederick Smith; pinterest.com

Justifying her penchant for romance and lust for the chase, Delores set off on a wild adventure to find true love. Never the one to turn down an opportunity, she hopped aboard the vessel that would take her across the ocean to an island getaway.

But rather than the rich and cavalier captain of the ship, it was the strikingly handsome, humble deckhand who stole her heart. There was nothing in his life worth anything that he could claim as his own, he told her. Not a car, a house, or even a lover with whom he could cuddle with on the deck and gaze at the night sky, counting every single star that outshined the other. He was free and content to sail the seven seas, and his kindhearted temperament, his honest and down-to-earth personality put Delores at ease and captured her open heart.

By the third day on the ship, she had fallen in love with him, and he with her. And that island getaway? It turned out to be theirs alone. The captain’s streak of jealousy had flared up when he saw them together, stealing a voluptuous kiss below deck, so he left them there on that island alone and sailed off into the sunset without them. But it was hardly anything for Delores or the deckhand to worry about. There would be another boat arriving, in two more days, giving them plenty of time to get to know each other more intimately, and learn what it meant to survive in the wild.

The glade of sacred intimacy


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.

Longing and Waiting


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.

Boundless Dreams and Desires

Artist George Garland; pinterest.com

It was a long arduous ride across the western plains by carriage – days even – but they only felt like minutes with ravishing Verbena at my side.

Somewhere along the way, I must have been chattering about our dreams, a ranch house with horses and children and a future we could build on, and that’s when she turned and pressed her mouth to mine.

Her soft lips felt like the gentle lapping river forging a ravine through a dense forest of pine, smooth and warm and full of life, arousing in me my deepest desire to have her.

As passion flourished and her fingers tore through my hair, I stopped the carriage in the middle of an open valley, the sky like our future wide open before us, and I knew that for now, our dreams could wait.