Siren Whispers

Siren Song


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Sin

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Can I be truly repentant

As I atone for my transgressions

If I adored each step

Into darkness

And would again embrace

With delight

Would allow myself

To savor

Once more

The sin

That is you

…Ravenous for the sin

For the darkness

For you

My hunger outstrips any need

For penance

My only need

Confession

Under your hands

Under you

My body spilling its secrets

In every sigh, gasp and moan

Expiation of sin

Was never more

Delicious

:

©SirenSong1208

Photograph taken from WhiteNoten


11 Comments

Purr

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She tries to move but cannot.

Her arms are above her head, bound.

She can feel the warmth of her skin on either side of her face.

She can smell the faint aroma of her perfume.

Along with this fragrance is the scent of her arousal

becoming stronger

as she waits.

The blindfold lets in no light.

She does not know where he is

or what he will do first.

But she knows,

oh yes she knows,

that he will do what he wants

when he wants.

 She tries again.

Giving a small tug on her wrists.

Checking the restraints.

Cuffed and roped to the bed frame

the slip slide of rope against metal

Unforgiving.

Unrelenting.

She sighs and stops.

She stretches her body

feeling the sheets under her

her skin sensitive to any touch.

She is alert for any sign of him

her body vibrating with anticipation.

Knowing she is his instrument for the day

and like any musician

he will play her over and over again

perfecting

chords

melodies.

He will make her sing

in her purest voice.

Her song.

For him.

Only him.

:

He’s still and silent.

Watching her.

Watching her face

as emotions, reactions flit across her features.

Wondering at her thoughts.

He’s restrained only her arms

wanting her legs free.

He watches as she tugs at the cuffs

smiling slightly as he knows they are secure

and her efforts are in vain.

Thinking of his plans for the day.

He observes her body.

Long, soft, supple naked skin

breathtaking curves

her nipples eager and erect

begging to be

teased

tortured

tasted.

Her sex

deliciously wet.

Of that he is sure.

He hears her sigh

and gazes at her as she stretches

her chest rising off of the bed

followed by the undulation of belly and hips

her legs lengthening

her toes pointed.

He likes to watch her stretch.

She’s like a cat

and he’s getting ready to make her purr.

:

*This is not a new post but it is a favorite longer piece of mine first posted a couple of years ago. I hope the reader will not mind indulging me.

©SirenSong1208 ~ 2015

Photograph taken from Tumblr


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Rosary beads

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Touch my curves

as though they were rosary beads.

Thumbing each one

mindfully.

Every stroke of your fingers

a murmured prayer

an Act of Contrition.

I will be the glorious mystery 

unfolding beneath

your hands

your mouth.

Make me your religion.

An altar for you

to worship at.

And not just on Sundays…

:

©SirenSong1208 ~ 2017

Photograph taken from Tumblr/unsourced


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Worshipful intent

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Fingertips

gently glide along his thighs.

Hands upon shoulders

touching her

as she touches him.

Her soft breath upon him

his hands

tangled like need through her hair.

She breathes him in

senses alive

with sacred desire

and worshipful intent.

:

©SirenSong1208 ~ 2016

Photograph taken from Pinterest


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Your essence

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She waits,

breathlessly,

for the firm drag of his tongue.

When it comes,

it’s electric.

A bolt

running from him to her.

He says,

“You taste like the ocean.

Like the warm sea

washing over me.

I want to get lost in you,

in your taste

in your essence.”

:

©SirenSong1208 ~ 2016

Artwork by Anna Dart via DeviantArt; “Wine Tasting”

 

 


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Fast and furious

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he parts her thighs

and takes her breath

hands gripping the slender length of her throat

the pulse flickering

wildly

delicately

beneath his fingertips

the heat of his skin upon hers

burning

a searing mark

he urges the carnal

the wildness within her

to stride forth

to run with his

fast and furious

a mindless need fulfilled

she surrenders to him

as he surrenders

to her

:

©SirenSong1208 ~ 2017

Photograph taken from Tumblr


4 Comments

Union

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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. 

:

©SirenSong1208 ~ 2015

Photo taken from Tumblr