His.

A kiss, tender passion filled need as the world twirls as butterflies swirl as you pull me deep within your grasp. Warm lips, wet tongues, tasting, sipping, biting, saliva entwining. Igniting, the imploding need of sacral fires burning, rising, tippy toes, pushing forward, faster, deeper. Two souls alit. Desire, need, lust, fighting to explode, skin a sensory puzzle of excitement, a visual play of energy as the soul becomes the rawest of all erogenous zones, tingling, waking, burning, aching… Kiss me, just fucking kiss me.

Karen Hayward ©2018
Image and words

Photo

The unity of sex

It’s about control.
My control over you,
over external stimuli,
it’s about navigating
my pleasure zones,
taking them cliff edge
and jumping, naked,
abandoned into an
angry sea of lust.
Its about power,
swinging the kinetic
pen-
du-
lum
in favour of me,
of you,
of me,
of you.
It’s nature’s force
rising within,
screaming obscenities
into the silent sky.
It’s about embracing
taboos,
painting them
across my torso,
mapping them
across my hip,
kissing them deep into my existence.
It’s about liberation,
those shackles that bind,
the ropes that burn,
the belt that reddens
The hands that restrain…
It’s about losing sight
and gaining… Sight
Being led into
temptation and
made to feed.
To gorge on sin
To devour whimsical
wishes, its about
control… My control
in your hands, my
power in your fingers
My need in your kisses
My desire in your strokes
My passion burning in your eyes
It’s all about trust
Power/ trust/ control
Yours… Mine…
They are the same
Its about unity.

Karen Hayward ©2018
Image and words

Photo

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.

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

In silence there after, I hear storms rage,
past scars itch, thoughts blur to reality
beauty pageant upon life’s cruel stage
Such perfect specimens they are not me.

Does one occur without the others truth,
If the vessel lacks purpose beyond need
found in another’s form, t’is thoughts a rue,
expenditure of the purposeful seed

Alas, always will haunt me lifes shadow
the silent whisper of empty value
in a graveless cemetery I’ll know
wandering thoughts of them naked with you.

The cross bow of spirit fighting hearts soul,
Is it love or sex, the ultimate goal

Karen Hayward ©2018 image and words

… 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

Black leather and kissing red… 

Black leather and kissing red 

Will you bind me in tomorrow’s kisses
Translucent skin bare against black leather
Squirming, pleading, alost in your wishes
tender lips, grazing, as soft as feathers. 

Come, lose yourself in eyes of innocence,
fingers entwined between flaming red curls
Pushing, pulling, testing my resilience
Skillfully guiding, inner she unfurls. 

encapsulating her essence in hues
Technicolour, tickled fingers trailing
between Celestial beats arousing you
And passions burning fires truly flaming

A rare puzzle piece beyond defining
Would you embrace the effort refining.
Karen Hayward ©2018

Image found on Google. 

An inferno of need.

Photo

It starts at my very core, there at my center,
deep within my sacral.
Not a gentle, subtle whispered kiss
of bliss, oh no, It’s an inferno, a blazing
storm, it takes hold, flames
through me, a moments combustion,
lubricated response to dampen the
fires of desire. A matrix of sensuality,
ancient coding mapped on the aged
parchment of my soul, the hidden
symbolism of spirit that you finger
your way through with the knowledge
of a blind man searching his memories
for lost vibrations of once known directions.
A flamed insistence spreads
through my responsive cells,
blood reaching my surface needing
to caress its master as searing heat
flushes and blushes, intensity rushes.
My limbs curl, search, draw in,
crouching, anticipating the onslaught
Implosive lust, explosive need…
It all starts at my very centre,
an inferno blazing through
me, an ancient need responding
to its one true master.

Karen Hayward ©2017
Image and words

Cover them in Satan’s cream.

Once upon a day gone by beneath a deafening
thunderous sky. I waged a war on life
itself, gave my all with love and grace and
then just simply let it fall. I walked on sullen tippy toes
followed life’s incessant flow. Stopped for neither man nor beast
upon this life i’d lovingly feast. Once upon a day far gone
I danced to another song, with hidden lyrics and a tasty beat
constantly moving my naked feet.
I devoured hearts and stole away dreams
covered them in Satan’s cream. I never looked back,
never questioned my track, never cared for the consequences
my fear to attach was relentless.
Once upon a night long gone I sold my soul in the devils song.
I’ve since begged and pleaded to have it back
he only laughs and says ‘you’ll have only a crack.
You’ll see out, but they’ll not look back.’

Karen Hayward ©2017
Image and wordsimg_20160419_221320.jpg