A
erotic page from the private journal dated September 2011 with an erotic poem
included at the end and something from HIM.
Can you
hear the lights in my heart? Thinking of you turns them brighter...but the
lights are never turned out. Thinking of how easily you turn "orgasm"
into art...
I love this
part of the quote from the true Valentine: "For those dear lips shot
through my heart, and thro' my bleeding vitals, delicious poison, and an
avoidless but yet a charming ruin." I recalled it while I was day dreaming
of you most of the day and that's because you're MIA again. That's what I call it
when you're so busy that you can think of nothing but work, work, work.
I'd love
to be the fly on the wall to see your face when I text you that I'm sneaking up
and whispering in your ear all the things I like to do if I really were
there...then kissing you and running away. Does it turn you on the way it does
me when you are playful and txt you're sneaking up on me and then...
I love it
when the cell phone in your pocket calls me because it has been bouncing and excited
it hits redial ... and you know there's no such thing as accidents and
coincidences. I love it!
If I had
a spy camera, I'd place it in your office so I could see your smile when I text
message that I have come to your office and I am sitting on your desk and doing
all sorts of naughty things I know you love and that get you hot.
There you
are, sitting at your desk, your computer in front of you and some printed work
at the side. You're looking at your computer, but the camera makes it appear
you look directly into the lens and you are reading words (let's say from an
email I sent to you earlier). As you continue to read, you become overwhelmed by
the words—there's a slight twitch, a smirk, a straightening of your back, a
desperate breath in—and you struggle to continue reading the words on your
computer screen.
The
camera picks up something so that any viewer might realize there is more to
this reading scene than it first seems. The viewer hears a slight slurping
sound in the background...then a humming interrupted by moans. It is
unmistakable to any and all viewers that what they hear before the camera fades
to black is your orgasm. The viewer just never sees what—who—produced it...is
there someone under your desk...is it the words on your computer screen that
produce a paroxysm of pleasure.
Gadz! Why
the xxxx are you so far away?! Thank G-d for us refusing to stop communicating
and assume things will fall into some undefined, some invisible, probably some
fake line like people "getting their ducks in a row". Thank G-d we talk
and listen and share and trust.
I want
you...the want is driving me crazy...crazy...crazy for you. When you get here I
want you to eff me so hard, sink so deep inside of me, that I'll never be able
to work you out from under my skin...NEVER!
I'm putting something in my journal...something I wrote months ago...something I'm thinking is better published and copyrighted under Mona's name...something just for you.
©Her Favorite Things
Mona Arizona, 2011
her favorite things, her favorite
toys, her favorite positions, her
favorite looks, her favorite acts,
her favorite flavors, her favorite
ways to savor the moment, to
make it last seemingly forever.
her favorite things she liked to share
with him when he came
over to her house they
lost track of time as
they explored her
favorite things,
the things he did
to her, the way he felt
on top of her, the way he
felt underneath her as she
rode him – one of her
favorite things, one of
her favorite places, her
favorite spot to watch his
face as he got closer and closer,
her hands resting on his chest as
she leans over and he sees her
favorite things dangling and
he reaches up and cups them
with his hands and her favorite
things feel comfortable in his hands
but she dismounts and moves to the
edge of the bed on her knees, her ass
looking at him temptingly, her favorite
things being him inside of her in various
positions, in various places.
her favorite things were his favorite things and
together they shared the riches between themselves
and discovered how to contrast and compare their
favorite things when it came to the bedroom and
coming and not going but staying and showing,
cuddling and eventually maybe even shoring,
showering with him was one of her favorite
things of all time the way his hands washed
her body and they moved under the water
as if it was raining and they were in the
jungle doing one of her favorite things -
kissing like it was the last kiss and you
knew it was the last kiss so you should
make the best of it and not try to flip
out, just enjoy her favorite things, his
lips, his hips, his thrust, his nature, his
ability to nurture then fuck then nurture
again at a moment’s notice was one of her
all time favorite things or maybe it was just
him altogether that was one of her favorite
things to come undone and remember how
to love, remember how to repeatedly come.
her favorite thing was to sing to him or go
to him at work and let him know how much
she thought him out of all the other humans on the
planet and the way he reacted to her touch was one
of her fun favorite things and the way he picked her
up and carried her across the room effortlessly, that
was definitely one of her favorite things. and that thing
he did with his tongue and his fingers at the same time,
that one thing that drove her wild – that was one of her
favorite things.
You
totally cracked me up last year when you sent the following to me...I don't
know why I keep coming back to it, but I do.
The
Sicilian Corkscrew
Here's
a great hand technique that will drive your woman wild.
Here's
What You Need: Just the two of you.
Here's
How You Do It:
Get
your woman naked. Have her lie on her back with her knees bent and her legs
open wide.
Sit
"Indian-style" between your woman's legs.
Cross
the index and middle fingers of one of your hands (you know, the traditional
"keep your fingers crossed" gesture).
Slowly
insert your crossed fingers into your woman's vagina. As you do this, rotate
your forearm back and forth. Insert your fingers deep enough so that your thumb
is now brushing her clitoris from side to side as your forearm rotates.
Continue
until you pop your woman's cork.
You want
to pop my cork again this October?
©Mimi Wolske, September 2011
All
Rights Reserved
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