Perhaps as you sleep . . .

Horned by on @DeviantArt

Perhaps, whilst you sleep
My fingers could trace along
Your skin, my lips could taste
Your neck, my hands could
Know your chest, my mouth
Could find your nipples…
Perhaps, whilst you sleep,
My hair could tickle gently
At your face, as i trace my
tongue down, down, down…
Swirling across the tip
Of your dick, sucking,
Licking, ..
Perhaps, i could wake you
With the gentle rocking of
My hips, small gentle twirls
As your tip, teases the opening
Of my lips…With soft kisses
That turn to passion, with
Rocking hips that turn to need…
Your hands stirring finding
My hips…No more teasing..
Thrusting, deep, hard
Primal thrusting…Perhaps
Whilst you’re sleeping
I could wake you.
KH© 2017

Image found on pinterest

Crimson Blush.


Your essence lays deep within my core,
my mind unquenched it begs me for more,
My spirit, chaotic has never felt so sure,
Of all our choices, I’m thinking all fours.

My skin searches always your touch
cheeks yearning for your crimson blush
An intense need that roams without rush,
A slave to desire and the erotic rush.

My eyes wander other realms to need,
to ponder the evolution of master’s feed,
to secure the taste essence of seed,
To taste liberation to be free.

I find you again at the core of my mind,
dark evolution, my wrists you do bind,
Kisses so soft, touch. . .of a kind,
this here lust that does burn,
Is yours and is mine.
It is yours and it is mine.
The whispers of need as
two souls entwine.

Karen Hayward (c) 2017

Words and image.

Decibels of lust.


I’d wake you with kisses soft and gentle,
And by gentle I mean, greedily devouring
your skin, teeth grazing, fingers digging,
I’d pull the essence of you deep into
my lungs
leaving a trailed mess of desire in my blood.

I’d whisper to you, quiet words of love,
by quiet I mean silent screams of despair,
My lips still, my voice waking your senses,
Decibels of lust rattling through your body,
I’d pull you from sleep, drag you into my reality.

I’d be your morning beauty, your ray of Sun,
By beauty I mean unruly hair and wild eyes,
naked skin still warm too touch,
I’ll be your light of darkest sin,
A golden stream of endless need.

I’ll wake you with love, in deepest hues,
By love, I mean a selfless promise,
a heart so pure,
a forever innocence, I mean a caring caress,
An honest embrace, a knowing smile,
And a heart that does race.

Karen Hayward (c) 2017
Image and words

Quench me. . .


My lips hunger
for your thirst,
my teeth,
for your flesh.
My tongue
for your
My fingers
itch for your
my hands for
your pinch.
My eyes
need quenching
by your form
my cheeks
by your hand.
My lungs
need to release
your screams
my throat
such a delicacy
strong fingers
This intensity
I need to
kiss you.

Karen Hayward (2017)

Verbal cunnilingus.

fe94f6785a9177c04bd7689ad647512b.jpg (296×600)

Puppeteers tongue
Gives rise to lovers peak.
Verbal cunningulus.
The verges rush, held,
pulled, pushed, held.
Teasing of strings,
perfected vibrations.
Puppeteers tongue
commands rise to
lovers peak. . .
commands control
commands discipline
commands the rise and
fall of oxytocin.
Puppet can do nothing,
but obey master.

Karen Hayward (c)2017
Image found on Pinterest

Photographers name can be found on the image.

Free me.

Take me to the dungeons 

walk me in the night, 

bind my hands above me, 

whip away my light. 

Watch me as I smile, 

watch me as i cry, 

turn my world to blackness 

beneath thunderous skies. 

Push me to the edges, 

push away my walls, 

wipe away my snigger 

watch me as I fall. 

Sooth away the pain 

with pleasure as it flows, 

leave me burning red 

with an afterglow. 

Stop only when you win, 

when all of me is lost, 

when you look into my eyes 

and no longer you see frost. 

Stop when I am yours, 

sat obediently at your feet 

seeing in your eyes

that I am finally free.
Karen Hayward ©2016

Caress the inner devil of my soul. 

Caress the inner devil of my soul,

bind my wrists with the softest,

deepest, reddest silk. 

Drape me in the prettiest black lace. 

Call to me. Call to my inner succubus,

whisper my name with the darkest shame. 

Stroke my pale soft skin. 

Teasingly awaken her, whisper to her from the depths. 

And when a whisper is not enough…

Plunge her into the screams of oblivion. 

Tear open my soul with raw abandonment. 

Make me scream and beg for her release. 

Bite her into existence,

Spank her for her resistance,

Take her with your insistence 

Own her with your persistence. 

Caress the inner devil of my soul

Release her,

Let my spirit grow. 

Tease her,

Let my spirit show. 

Caress her,

Be the reason that I glow. 

Caress the inner devil of my soul. 
Karen Hayward ©2016