Feel me as I become the waves…

Photo

Feel not the strength of my force
but the depth of my passion.
Feel me as I pull you under
the air pulled from your lungs
as I circle your body.
Feel me as you sink further in,
your eye’s lost in mine as I create a cyclone of desire.
Feel me as I devour your soul in one single wave of ecstasy.
Feel me as I wrap myself around your body,
feel me as excitement builds,
Feel me as my energy rises,
Fell me as my strength recovers,
Feel me as I explode against you in orgasmic rush.
Feel the depth of my passion as I pull you under.

Karen Hayward. 2015© Image and words.

Commands the demands

… His words taste like the outer corners of lust, coveted by dark shadows. A curse of black mist rising in me. If I am the succubus then he is my master, puppeteering my desire, fingering my needs to his command. His touch is the black leather choker at my slender neck. His voice the liberating echo of passion that lubricates my strings….and in his eyes is the promise of a million kisses, each one new, deep, purposeful. Each kiss overflowing with lust, each kiss a binding promise of trust, each kiss an exchange of power… And if I am his succubus, a vessel of need then he is my master and from him alone I feed, for there in his kisses, his touch and his eyes, is an abundance of love filling my skies.

Karen Hayward ©2018
Image found on Pinterest.

Nothing comes, whilst it all is there

I never thought that I would care.

A chemical reaction and skin that is bare

and that bit of you, that you’d readily share.

But i’m without claim and freedom is yours

so take her if you please, do it on all fours.

Body to body it’s an action of lust

has nothing to do with emotional trust.

So why…

Why did nobody say that the lines become blurred,

that you’ll see emotions written in the words.

Excitement of touch falls to the page

and in that moment I hear what you say.

Words for another

as you explore a new lover.

And perhaps it makes sense

my emotional descent.

It’s more than the skin, the touch and the feel

it’s spirits that touch a connection so real.

And I did not expect didn’t know it was there

but the response that I got, was to be shown that 

I care.

Karen Hayward (copyright) 2015 Image via wordpress library

My Lips…your name.


My lips yearn to speak
your name long into the night,
counting every breath taken,
every syllable spoken
every nervous bite, searching
beneath twilight, in golden rays
endless faces, realms of nothing.
My lips yearn to speak your name,
to taste the letters upon my
tongue, and swallow their intent
caught between kisses, caressed
by desires love, engulfed in
desperate lust, my lips yearn
to whisper your name on pleasures
wave, ascent, descent, upon the
arch of need rising at your touch,
my lips yearn to speak your name.




Karen Hayward (c)2017 Image via wordpress library

Lose me in tender touches

Will you pull me in?
Gently press my cheek
to your chest
Curve your fingers across
my hip,
skin on skin.
Will your fingers slip
through strands of
my hair
As your leg slips between
my thighs…

Will you let me fall
for a moment,
be nothing
for a millisecond
Just let my soul
rest,
safely in the cocoon
of your arms…

… Before I rise
once again.

Karen Hayward ©2018

Image found on WordPress library

The serenity of a sensual soul

There’s a
serenity of mind
that follows
the ascent
a nodule of calm
and yet
I am consumed
by my
cravings,
I am heightened
to the primal
need of your touch…

… I am awakened
searching now for
you as I descend,
searching now for
the taste of your
ascent, my soul’s
core reaching for
your intent, there
is a calm, here
somewhere
between the
radiating
pulses of desire

And now I am
energy,
sparked at your
command
ignited, charged
pulses
beyond the
physical form,
my soul craves
your touch

I crave you
in an all
consuming
primal urge
as oxytocin
pulses
through me.

Karen Hayward ©2018