Muse 3

– – –
A smile to melt my heart
Eyes to drown within
or sending sparkling light to brighten my world
Hair that in touching your neck and shoulders
reminds me again how my lips long to be just there
Hair that I know is mine as reins to your need
Soft cheekbones to be kissed
as do avid lips that feel like velvet
whose questing eager honeyed tongue dances
so playful and submissive
Silky skin conveying the passion of my touch
to your hungry soul –
a wonderful canvas for your chosen ink
Tall elegance, flaring hips, exuding more grace
than ever you know
I love your open laugh & ready smile –
   Your indulgence of my sillier whims
   Gentle wit & teasing ways
   That lilting light lovely voice
   Your different take on the world
   The intelligence so much of what you do tells me you have
That immeasurable value of your writing and understanding of mine
Your pussy haunts my thoughts –
   taste, textures
   the specificity of conformation
   each varied response that is
   always & inescapably you
Pulsing, clenching, lubricating
you and your cunt drive me wild
Those other things you do with your mouth
that also spell-bind me
Your crazy demanding nipples
that became so much crazier
mind-blowing in the consequences
and consequent pleasures
Indelible now, those primal jerks of pleasure as I teased
yet another thing that makes me so hot for you
Your needs and your desires
sweetest & darkest
surrendering to me offering yourself for my pleasure
which you accept, is often me pleasuring you.
– –
You have more worth, more beauty, than would take a lifetime to tell
and this little attempt is no suitable tribute
but shows, I hope, some inkling
of why I care so much
for You.

Lovers’ dilemma

A dilemma of delights:

To wake to your lover cradling or cradled,
Body beautiful beside you,
To caress and kiss to drowsy waking,
And slow morning lust.


To find your dreams directed,
At your muse’s ardent attentions,
Until sleep merges into conscious passion,
Irresistible desire melding you together.


– – –

Except of course, the dilemma is only an apparent one, and before the event, for lo the solution is presented automatically when chance dictates which partner wakes first.

Muse 2


I see her in my mind, imagine the feel of her, her docile but eager touch. I know her curves, her smile, her burning eyes, the sighs and moans and gasps.

Always when I write she is with me, telling me what she wants, showing me action and reaction. As I channel her presence the pieces seem to write themselves, truer than anything with conscious direction.

Though we authors dream in fire and write in clay, the burning inspiration rings clear from the page and screen; when muse-fed, daemon-ridden, in thrall to her passion and that it generates in me. She reaps what I sow, harvesting the verbal seed I thrust towards her, accepting it wherever it falls, taking it into herself, powering her fantasies, her self-fulfilment – to be retold to me, or listened to live, or pictorially preserved and presented, further fuel for my lust, and its linguistic expression.

I am her scribe, she is my muse. Within this dynamic faithful to our shared purpose: satisfied sexual desire – no matter the wait for consummation.

Poem: Muse 1



A magic muse,
Magnificent,empowered, inspiring,
I dream within her web of words,
Her image-laden seduction,
Her response a spur to my endeavour,
My reward, her greatest of favour.

– – –

The picture was sent to me by a completely lovely young lady, and seemed to match the subject matter well.

My thanks as ever for such a beautiful offering to aid my work.