Of course you want me. As do your men.
And I delight in my power. My delta surges. My nipples strain. Mine is the only dripping pussy within endless miles of ravaged sand, and desperate hands bearing bands of gold grope my high breasts, cup the subtle sweetness of my rolling hips. Hot promises of unprecedented passion find their way to my ears from the pleading lips of Deon, Daryl, David, and Tyrone.
Yet, of the hundreds of eager organs awaiting my command, for me there is only yours. In you I sense the greater need, and it is you I dream of. Dreams of steamy illusion, only to awaken alone in my secluded tent, drenched beneath the broiling desert sun, the phantom of your manhood still throbbing wickedly between my lonely thighs, your ghostly kiss still burning against the swell of my brown breasts.
Forbidden to enter your area of operations, I cloak myself in the shadows of the mess tent and listen to your briefing as your face turns to steel. Your men squat before you in a semicircle, and the First Sergeant’s hands shake as he reads the combat orders sent down from your higher command.
You will depart at o-dark-thirty. The first rays of the Southwest Asian sun will find you probing far behind battle lines, deep in the belly of enemy territory where your men will attempt to accomplish a mission impossible.
Fucking suicide. The slight breeze lifts the growled words from your full lips and lights them upon my ears. The last outfit to attempt such a breach had been slaughtered. Color photos bore witness to a bloodsoaked desert floor strewn with bodies, naked and stripped of glory. The First Sergeant crumples the orders in his fist and spits. Some dickhead back in Washington is sending flesh-and-bone men in where even armored equipment would be blown to bits.
I tremble at his apprehension. It is real and palpable even from this distance.
There will be no cameras on this mission, you declare emphatically, your onyx eyes burning through the black shadows and piercing my hiding place. There will be no women.
Panic snatches at my throat and claws my belly. Artillery fire resounds in the distance. My boot-clad feet sink into the sand. The First Sergeant speaks the truth: War is a deadly game. A game played for keeps. The stakes are high. The booty is life, the punishment a bloody death. The thought of you slipping into the stars, perhaps never to return, is unbearable. I cannot allow you to go into battle without a measure of protection. My unrequited midnight dreams leave my loins slick and wet and fill me with agony.
This could be it.
Your last night.
Then tonight will be different, I vow. Tonight, instead of the coarse blankets scraping at our centers, there will be flesh upon flesh. Bone against bone.
My mind races as you give your men the order to disperse. Fear and tension roll off their unwashed bodies and clog the stagnant air. They understand the impending peril and are not ashamed to show their fear.
Fear is good, I think. Fear can keep you alive.
But as I watch you watching them, there is something greater than fear in your eyes. A desperate something that resembles anguish as you study their retreating backs. Some stride into the night with instructions to guard the perimeter. More retreat to their foxholes to clean weapons. Others, taking advantage of the calm before the storm, drag themselves through the sand to their makeshift homes, row upon row of camouflaged mounds in the sandy tent city.
You remain behind, your posture pensive, an air of exhausted loneliness surrounding you. Responsibility lands like a brick and burrows into your gut. Their lives are in your hands.
A sole figure silhouetted against the electrified sky, you rise to your feet and momentarily gaze up at the stars. As you stretch your arms toward the heavens, the heavy muscles in your back coil and rope lazily beneath your damp shirt. My loins leak a sudden, desperate passion and I collapse against the cloth of the mess tent and hold my breath. My heart thumps madly beneath my breasts, my thighs clench and unclench, the delta between them melting and molding into a tiny throbbing triangle.
My fingers find my breasts, my nipples already as stiff as stone. I am fascinated as you turn the long structure of your body and stride into the camel-colored folds of your sleeping tent, six months of pent-up fear, uncertainty, and desire in your step. My eyes remain glued to the spot where you have just been, as my hands hurriedly undo the buttons on my chocolate chip-patterned trousers.
I am powerless as I delve into my own wetness, my fingers hard and exacting as I probe my slippery folds. I find my spot and rub and massage until I pant aloud. I imagine that my gliding fingers belong to you, my wetness a by-product of our love. I fuck myself furiously, rocking my solitary hips back and forth across the mound of my own fist, bringing myself to the brink time after time, until finally a rocket explodes in my groin and tiny pellets of combustion scorch my breasts.
As I gaze up at the audience of stars, I am filled with heat, yet I remain empty. My breasts rise and fall as my breathing slows. Minutes fly by as I fight to quell the rising tide in my gluttonous cavern. My need has not yet been sated.
I grow more determined.
There is something I must give you: a talisman of sorts. A rabbit’s foot, a sow’s ear, a monkey’s lip.
I move closer to the doorway through which you have disappeared.
Trembling fingers secure the tent flaps behind me as I slip into the darkness of your desert home. Moonlight filters in from the slit in the roof, and I marvel at your perfection as I kick off my boots and tear at my clothing. Bathed in silver, your form is outlined on the low cot, tangled and ensnared in the olive-drab sleeping bag.
Mortar rounds explode to the east as I tiptoe through the yielding sand and slide in beside you, my thighs draping over yours as I snuggle into the hard lines of your physique. You stir gently but do not awaken. Heat radiates from my skin as I move closer, desperate to be one with you.
My hand snakes lazily across your chest, fingers tangling in the curls that cover your smooth brown skin. I drag my fingers lower and find your navel, gently rubbing around its soft perimeter. I feel an inferno glowing from its center and bursting from your groin, and my hand plunges there like a heat-seeking missile.
I search gingerly.
Your manhood is regal. Proud and defiant. It lurches at my contact, the thick veins bringing sweet delight to my wandering fingers. I wrap my hand around your thickness, and tiny volts of electricity radiate from my palm to the tips of my breasts. My nipples harden and reach outward.
I grasp the crest of your beautiful black penis and glide my hand over the mushroom-shaped head. My hand stops just beneath the swollen crown and I squeeze gently. Your body stiffens and you moan softly in your sleep. Gently, I pump up and down, squeezing softly each time I reach the top of your shaft.
I find your heavy balls and fondle and massage them both with one hand. Slowly, your hips begin to gyrate, making deep fucking motions into my moist palm. I slide my body against you, and your legs move apart. I nestle down in the V between your thighs and make myself comfortable. I lick your left nipple and then greedily begin to suckle, making hectic swirls with my tongue and biting gently as I pull your tiny knob into my mouth.
Your arms close around me, gripping me firmly as you pump your steel into the softness of my stomach. I break the contact and slide down your body, my tongue leaving a wet trail on the landscape of your belly and chest.
The heavy scent of your manhood rises to meet me and my pussy begins to drip. I ignore the explosive echoes of cannon fodder and bury my nose in your pubic hair, then slide further down into your heaven. I part your thighs a bit wider, then cup your balls gently in my hands. I lick first one, then the other, before opening my mouth to invite them both inside. I suck your balls like precious candy as I grip the extra-hard shaft of your penis. Your moans tell me just how much you like my technique, and I renew my motions with vigor.
Suddenly, I release your heavy sac and lower my wet mouth over the head of your black serpent. You groan deeply as my boiling cave descends like black lava over your eager,
pulsating shaft. I wrap my full lips firmly around the base, and suck and slurp greedily as I take six, seven, eight, then all nine inches down my throat and bathe it lovingly with my soft tongue.
I sigh. The sensation of your throbbing manhood, vibrating and pushing at the back of my throat, is like no other. I pull back a bit and leave inch by inch of it exposed to the naked air, then I slam my head back down and make hot circular motions as I play tongue games with the main vein running along its side. I slurp and nibble and suck until your hips buck wildly and you fuck my mouth as if it were a pussy. I can feel your cum building and swirling along toward an explosion, and I squeeze hard with one hand and rub your ass with the other.
You almost scream with pleasure as you rock back and forth into my mouth. I rub my legs together, the slippery cream of my pussy sliding down my thighs. Suddenly you pull your self from my mouth and gather me up to face you. Your tongue now probes where your penis has just been, and we share the sweet taste of your manliness between us. Your fingers find my dripping center and you gently part the lips and rub my clit, dipping down into my silky pot of love and bringing the moisture up to slather my growing bud.
I sigh deeply and spread my legs wider. You lay me back and kiss each of my erect nipples. You cup my breasts in your hand and rub and knead them as if they are two beautiful brown babies. With one hand you stoke my heat and slide your fingers in and out of my wet sheath, and with the other you squeeze my breasts while you lick my thick nipples.
I almost faint when you plunge your head lower and cover me with your nibbling lips. The sensation is far too exquisite and I fight you momentarily, unable to bear such direct pleasure. You push me past that point, gently licking my mound with building pressure on my clit. Every few seconds you reach down with your tongue and dip inside, gathering my juices and rubbing them all over my clit. I squeeze my thighs together and fuck at your face, my legs thrashing wildly from pleasure.
You lick my slit, up and down, deeply inserting your tongue, then withdrawing it and swirling about my clit and back and forth and back and forth and back and forth. I grab your head and push your face deeper as my orgasm bursts forth from me in a long flood of liquid that you lick and suck and swallow with joy. I purr like a kitten as my bottom rubs against the coarse cot and I cup and squeeze my own breasts in satisfaction. You kiss each of my thighs, then slide your body up to mine.
The scent of gunpowder rides the tails of a leftover breeze, and I glimpse your erection in the shadows of the moonlight and shiver. Its majestic beauty is undeniably powerful and alluring. Somehow, as you suckled from me, your regal weapon has grown an additional two inches, and it now spits white love from its tip and throbs menacingly as it approaches my soft brown hole. I bite my lip as you enter me with one massive thrust, pushing every bit of your thick hard meat into me at once.
Pleasure waves explode in my womb as you fill me. I groan as you pound and push and buck wildly into my gaping softness, your thrust so powerful and long and hard that your balls slap my ass wetly each time the tip of your penis rams my womb. My legs are spread wide enough to split as you grab my ass with both hands, lift me slightly from the cot, and burrow within me so hard and so deep I almost cry from the intense pleasure-pain. I rub your ass with both hands and hold on tight as you ride me, sliding and slamming in and out. My wetness splashes against your thighs. Our hairs tangle and mingle as my eager mound rises up to meet you, waves of cum soaking your pounding organ.
You moan in ecstasy as you take a swim in the hot pool of my honey, splashing around madly, pushing deeply and withdrawing. Your balls tighten; your anus pulsates; my teeth rake across your nipples. My hands are slapping your ass, clenching and drawing you further and further and deeper until you pound and thrust even harder, your chest crushing the pillows of my breast. My pussy is sliding hot and wet up your shaft. My thighs clench and relax, clench and relax as you fuck me and I fuck back. Then an explosion ignites from you, sending hot waves spiraling up your tube and shooting like lava out the tip of your shaft.
Your roar eclipses the desert moon as you cast your burning wetness into the softness of my well. We hold each other tightly as shock waves curl our toes, harden our nipples, drench us in blessed sweat, and extinguish our shared heat.
What seems like hours later, our breathing finally slows and you kiss me gently and smile, your eyes shining like black diamonds. Your manhood growls its satisfaction and I smile back and kiss each of your eyelids, searing your features upon my memory; then I slip from your arms and retrieve my clothing and quietly depart.
We do not speak, you and I, and we never will. Yet, as I steal away beneath the bright Arabian stars, our eyes form a covenant: a promise made possible due to the binding of our flesh and the heat we shared on the platform of your desert bed. Silently, your eyes accept your fate as they thank me for the gift of my loins, your armor and your shield, to fortify and strengthen me and to ward off all danger.
My eyes hold the promise of remembrance as I vow to hold tight to the precious pool you deposited deeply in my womb. To hold tight to the essence of you, a brave black leader of men, who in the darkness of night planted his seed with a queen, and, in return, was inoculated with enduring life in the broiling hot theater of death.
Magick
folade mondisa speaks-love
“pull up your skirt i want your seaweed
move your panties to the side
show me the hair under your arms
you haven’t shaved have you don’t break
my heart and tell me you shaved again
pull up your shirt so i can smell the musk your hair
traps in farther more tell me you want me to swim
beneath your wet seaweed
you smell so fucking good your scent is so intoxicating”
a jar of honey a teaspoon of her blood will heal him in my own mind the elements became a reincarnated thing one october evening…. there is an old voodoo spell if a woman drops as little as a teaspoon of her blood into a man’s tea it is said that she will never leave his head that he will never leave her he’ll always want her triangle the wet sweet the middle but this spell is for the fool who won’t drink the blood willingly for the fool who doesn’t know the power of her honey will heal him (these are things i know)
with all my intuition you like an apparition
mysteriously appeared before me
moon conjured you out of nowhere but i’ve known you
ram lover
remember the magical way
your oculus disappears into your orgasm the jerk
your deflational heaviness descending me
pull up my sleeves wrap your fingers around my intuition
you ask, “are you a witch?”
my divining plate would narrate omens
when we fuck waves thunder
when i am swimming when i am casting cowries with other
sirens when i am a rockfish skipping stones across
the water’s surface and feel the pounce of your feet
upon earth
near me i celebrate you
he adores hair rubs his nose his eyes his mouth and tongue
in mine in any crevice
that grows hair that is where he dwells where his head
moves in a back-and-forth motion
like there is jazz flowing from those places
he adores hair asks me “do you wonder why i love hair so
much but shave the hair
from my cock?” “no absolutely not” i tell him i know
that he shaves
his own hair to be closer to mine but there are times when
he is out of me when i cannot access him my legs gyrate
openings go into convulsions cunt hallucinates organs
kick and scream my openings pour heels pound floor like
hands to jembe my heart turns sensory to find him my
pheromones pant they need water I need breath need
; for him to dwell in my entry why?
because each time we fuck he heals me
i ask, “what turns you on?” he answers, “the hunt”
a long journey a huge organ a pelvic area will stagger
i want to bring you toys i want to tie you up i want to blindfold you i want to bring food i want to eat on you i want to eat from you i want to eat you i want to bring you toys battery toys fruit toys cream i want to bring you a living breathing toy that talks i want to watch you lick her i want to watch her lick you i want to see your body move with a woman’s body i want her to eat your pussy while your lips are wrapped around my dick you suck good dick yeah you definitely suck good dick would you object to the toy the living breathing toy the female toy would you object kamania?
oil rests on his skin line my tongue devoted to the
bittersweet of it hovering over me
he feels like rain he is a lion mane wide mouth the
beast in him echoes through release in the loud way he
holds himself there and bends to the side and holds
himself in it and straightens into an ejaculation echo
the beast in him descends and parallels me prancing into
a whisper he tells me he wants my breath and tongues the
right hand crease of my smile he makes that place
the inverted prism of my organs
my mouth comes the veins in my neck come my throat
pants spring is born in me
he asks me, “do men approach you? often? how? what do they say? how do they look at you? how do they respond? where do they think you’re from? do you respond? what do you say? do women approach you? how often? more than men or just as much? i thought you said men don’t approach you that often? what do they say about you? mysterious? it’s very true they share my observation they detect the witch in you”
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