Siren Whispers

Siren Song


Beyond her shore


The night sky

a velvet lapis lazuli

holding brilliant stars within its embrace.

She gazes in wonder

at each glittering constellation

making a wish

for he who waits

beyond her shore.



Image of Reunion Island by Daniel Cheong




I am the sweet strains of a violin.



poignant with longing

aching with want.

My voice found

as the bow slides across the strings


I sway

I bend

I reach toward you

feeling every emotion

every movement 

within me.

Curves and lines become chords in this song of passion.

A song which stirs your desire

when you are alone with your thoughts

thoughts of me

in the heat of the night.

You feel my surrender to you

in this dance of abandon

as I match the music’s melodic rise and fall

note for note

as I give everything

as I become one with that single note

that reverberates within you.






Image taken from Pinterest








A name

no longer your name

but your name nonetheless

how can my heart call you by any other name

than the one I chose for you

the one that soundlessly voices in my mind…

shall I rip it out

and start anew…

shall my memories be shelved

because that’s not you

and yet it is…

an identity

baby steps

for you

and for me

especially for me

for you are fearless

and I wish I was

but I will help you fly


I can do



Photograph taken from the Unintended Muse




Sometimes the thoughts come.  In a rush

I see it clearly. 

The bed, a tangle of sheets and limbs.  Skin striped by the shafts of light finding their way through the slatted shades.

I am on my back and you are before me.  Caressing me.  Pinching me.  Licking me.  Making every sense sing with your attentions.

I am on fire, with you.

I look up at you and see the same fevered arousal in your eyes that I know has softened my own.  I reach out and touch your chest, lazily stroking downward.

Touching you.  Feeling you and how hard you are.  How much you want me.

Your fingers have already discovered just how much I want you.

You flip me over, have me kneeling on the bed.  My breasts are flat against the sheet, my arse is in the air.  My hands are stretched out in front of me.  Clutching.  Beseeching.  My thighs delightfully wide.  For your pleasure

Your thrust takes my breath away.  Your skin against mine as you take your time. Your hands gripping my hips.  Your strokes, blissfully slow. Full.  Measured.

I feel one hand slide upward to palm my breast.  To squeeze my nipple.  The other sliding downward to find my sex.  Probing.  Circling.  Your movements synchronised with your thrusts.

You pull me up, my back against your chest.

My arousal is a delicious torture.  I can feel it building.  Stroke by stroke.

I can’t help but push backward, to take more of you, to feel you closer.

Your thrusts become faster now.  Gaining momentum

I’m lost in the sensations.  Your hands on me.  You inside me, filling me. 

Nothing else matters. 

Just us. And this thrilling, euphoric union. 


*This story short was posted last year but I like it and thought I’d give it another outing. I beg the indulgence of those who have read before and hope any new readers enjoy.


Photograph taken from Tumblr




Pale pink

whispers upon her skin

like the blush of a new day. 

Lace cups her sweet breasts

with a lover’s touch.

Sensuous curves are draped

with chiffon

that murmurs its delight

as it veils and reveals


He is tantalised by the shadows

of her curves

of her sex

as they tempt him

and ripen his imagination.

His thinks only of sliding the straps

down her arms


revealing her

inch by creamy inch

until at last

with a sigh of surrender

she’s left with a delicate sea of pink

at her feet.




Photograph taken from Pinterest


Her desires


Her desires are dark

her thoughts are taboo

but he knows how to lead her down the path

she yearns to follow. 

He knows how to challenge her

to push her boundaries

taking her fear

her nervousness

and using them

to inflame her imagination

making her wet and wild

for him.

Her sinews

her curves

molten heat

in his hands

and on his mind.



Photograph taken from Pinterest





Capture me

but without words.

Close your eyes

and sketch my curves

as though your hands

were sliding along them.

Feel them

under the nib of your pen

as it glides across the paper


all angles

all lines.

Feel me

with every mark of your ink

as you make me

your indelible art.



Photograph taken by Jack O’Connor; Model: Iana