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Anais Vionet Mar 28
I’m a bit of a sensualist.

First, let me emphasise emotional resonance,
there has to be an emotional base,
not just an appreciation of hotness.

Then, there’s a sense of longing and mystery—
that male unknowableness.

Don’t forget the hard strength of those rough male edges,
you know, the feeling that he’s kind of sculpted from
a marble that you just want to run your hands over.

And this jet-black hair, the curves and the spiky bits,
casual, careless, not fussy or particular,
and his warm, firm, implacable hands.
Oh, God. Gimmie some.

“Sensuality's connected to desire, ya?” I asked the room (Sunny and Lisa are there, studying).
“It sure is,” Sunny said, flippantly, “and you just need that hot boyfriend of yours to spank it out of you.”
“No,” I winced, “that’s not true.”
“Ooo! I love this song” Lisa said, as ‘try’ by BETWEEN FRIENDS began to play on our Echos.
.
.
Songs for this:
this is what falling in love feels like by JVKE
golden hour by JVKE

.
.
Our cast
Sunny, (suitemate) 21, a (pre-med) molecular, cellular, and developmental biology major, is a cowgirl from Nebraska (seriously, she has a quarter horse and barrel races). She’s an outspoken fem-facing ladies-lady.

Lisa, (roommate) 21, my bff and a high society princess, who grew up in a 50th floor Central Park South high-rise. A (pre-med) molecular biophysics and biochemistry major.

Your author, a simple, multinational, upper-crust, trust-fund baby from Athens, Georgia who's also a molecular biophysics and biochemistry major (pre-med).
BLT Merriam Webster word of the day challenge 03/26/25:
Flippant = lacking seriousness or proper respect.
Jonathan Moya Mar 23
This is the first time I've been in this mango grove,
hearing the iguaca sing, since my parents left this island

It is mid-July and I am wearing my dad’s old hat palm pava    
square and jaunty on my balding crown


quietly stealing this fleshy passion fruit, its skin warm on my palm, eager to be ******, before the jibaro with their cutting poles awaken—


these violently soft things who delight in the rude noises
made in the slush of their kissing—


their fibers glad to be forever stuck in my teeth
pretending beginnings on new beginnings.                                            

“This year, the mangoes are abundant,” my father used to say to me, his voice blending with the birdsong.

He takes a bite and hands me its yellow-red splendor
to try.  Instantly, I am heartbroken—pierced and open.

I realize, this will be my last time here in this shifting, slow heat  
and I will struggle to remember and feel what it was like  

                                            to touch and eat-- abundant mangoes.
Kamini Oct 2024
Rising from the
womb of the Earth
something is being
stirred inside me.

Could there be anything
more sensually satisfying
than a stew
laced with the
romance of
crushed roses?

Slowly, wrapping
around my tongue,
savouring each bite,
I feast with each nibble
peppered heat
spiced with the
woody caress
of cinnamon;
An invitation
to pause in
pleasure

Soft apricots
pulsing with
sweet nectar
explode with
the essence of
The Goddess
sending a wave
of warm bliss
into the cauldron
of my belly.

Satiated,
tasting the
last kiss of
Summers rich
harvest, I rest.
Carlo C Gomez Jul 2024
~
Sun drips
on leaves

not the backyard variety
but the trembling kind

the kind
that weld night-time
intermissions to
the roof of the mouth

sonnet-filled
evaporation
reveals
the timely concealment of
a very, weary
inanimate object
at the brink

just enough hip
to be woman

just enough wild
to be frontier

~
M Vogel Jul 2024

Bewitching hour..
And the thought of you
taking my words in
has it dripping down the sides
as I stroke..

Building up for the fourth time tonight
in the thoughts of you being
open..
and naked..
and near

I pull you on top of me
and those beautiful hips  of yours
begin to move..
Mouth to swollen *******,
hands under your thighs
as I lift you  up

And then  slowly
ease you back down..
your beautiful luscious,  clenching
down on to my shaft  so tightly

     As its liquid  juices
     come forth, in praise


#oops
Chelsea Quigley Dec 2023
We are empty,
Half naked.
Our bodies meet the eye,
The room is quiet,
Sacred.

You slowly walk,
Our eyes talk,
Your lips,
They quiver.

Your voice,
Makes me shiver.

I am smaller,
My body polluted in sweat.

For one magical move ,
And I,
Am now undressed.

I think you may suspect the rest.
So we made love and flew up into the sky
Where the clouds caressed our shimmering bodies and the stars welcomed us home.
There we stayed, resting...
In silent ecstasy as the universe pulsated with the heartbeat of every soul
Not a sound was heard
As celestial bodies moved in silent ancient accord...

"It is time," We said... at long last
"To return to that place from long ago
Where all is not as it should be
Where confusion holds
And fear abides."

"We must return there,
To walk amongst those who would know the truth
And tell them of the beauty behind the veil."
I wrote this in April 2016. I don't remember writing it or know where the inspiration came from. The first line of the poem read "never forget this place..."
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