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Category Archives: Erotica

Berries

Outside

in today’s cold wind

I could not help but think

of you

bound with rope

your exquisite nipples

proud and erect

and as hard

as unripened berries

perfectly defined

against the material

of your dress.

.

.

© the author writing as Romantic Dominant/Faded Romantic

Not new, but it is that chilly time of the year.

Art by Willi Kissmer

 
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Posted by on December 1, 2022 in D/s, Erotica, Poetry, romance, Still Life

 

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And then

I thought

I had become

immune to beauty

indifferent to sexy

unmoved by submission

unstirred by intelligence

unexcited by control

untouched by desire

unaffected by dance

and then

there was you.

.

.

© the author writing as Romantic Dominant/Faded Romantic

Written some years ago – and then there was you.

Art by Peter Worswick

 
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Posted by on November 30, 2022 in D/s, Erotica, Poetry, romance, Still Life

 

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Inch by Inch

art-by-javier-arizabalo

I am the poetic cartographer

of your sacred body.

I will discover you

and map you,

explore you

and draw you,

observe you

and describe you,

chart you

and render you

adored

inch by perfect inch.

.

.

© the author writing as Romantic Dominant/Faded Romantic

Posted originally some years ago. But I like it because it is what I do.

Art by Javier Arizabalo

 
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Posted by on November 29, 2022 in D/s, Erotica, Poetry, romance, Still Life

 

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That secret

That secret.

That wild

dark, erotic

sexual fantasy.

The one you conceal

from everyone.

The one you hide

from yourself.

That secret.

.

That secret

is what attracts me

like a magnet

compels me

like a drug

draws me

moth to flame

makes me yearn

for you

to release it

just for me.

That secret.

.

.

© the author writing as Romantic Dominant/Faded Romantic

Written a few years ago. I like it, so another airing. And because you have a secret.

Art by William Oxer

 
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Posted by on November 28, 2022 in D/s, Erotica, Poetry, romance, Still Life

 

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Hard

I listen

hard

for a murmur of you

for a rumour of you

for a whisper of you

for the sound of you.

.

I wait

hard

for a trace of you

for a glimpse of you

for a sight of you

for the shape of you.

.

.

© the author writing as Romantic Dominant/Faded Romantic

Art by Casey Baugh

 
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Posted by on November 26, 2022 in D/s, Erotica, Poetry, romance, Still Life

 

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Enchantment

art-by-casey-baugh

I do not know the sorcery of attraction.

I only know its magic, its chemistry, its compelling, demanding, irresistible force

I only know it by the mane of hair, the eloquent eyes, the sensual lips

I only know it by the elegant shoulders, the exquisite breasts, the perfect legs

I only know it by the sweetest voice, the lightest wit, the purest heart.

I do not know the sorcery of attraction

I only know the shape

of its enchantment

.

.

© the author writing as Romantic Dominant/Faded Romantic

Art by Casey Baugh

Not new, but true.

 
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Posted by on November 24, 2022 in D/s, Erotica, Poetry, romance, Still Life

 

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She is drawn

She is drawn

to my dark religion

reads my words

like they are holy

and feels

a heavenly ache

between her thighs.

.

.

© the author writing as Romantic Dominant/Faded Romantic

Not brand new writing, but she is drawn

Art by William Oxer

 
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Posted by on November 16, 2022 in D/s, Erotica, Poetry, romance, Still Life

 

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A Goddess

The perfect

naked glide

from breasts

to waist

to hips

curve and line

beyond divine.

A goddess

before my eyes.

.

.

© the author writing as Romantic Dominant/Faded Romantic

Art by Laszlo Gulyas

 
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Posted by on November 15, 2022 in D/s, Erotica, Poetry, romance, Still Life

 

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Author

Oh, to be the author

of your arousal,

the quickening of your breath,

the arching of your back,

your thighs

parted wide,

my name

on your lips.

.

.

© the author writing as Romantic Dominant/Faded Romantic

First posted a few years ago. Oh to be the author….

Art by Fulvio De Marinis

 
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Posted by on November 13, 2022 in D/s, Erotica, Poetry, romance, Still Life

 

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Something has changed

Her life is the same.

Yet something subtle, imperceptible, indefinable has changed.

She seeks it in the buildings, the landscape, the weather and the light.  In the steam from her coffee. She looks for it in the faces of others. She tries to find clues in music, in art, and in films that make her laugh and cry. In books and in magazines and in the words of romantic poets

She watches clouds making familiar shapes across an ordinary sky.

She stands surrounded by night and studies the moon and stars. She lets the breeze tug at her hair and listens for something she might not hear.

In her room, with the lights down low, she examines her body, stripping naked, running her hands over her skin. She is alive to her own touch. Her fingers make her sigh. She breathes deeply.

She stares back at herself and tries to read her own expression.

Her eyes give something away. They are bright, wide, curious, excited. Her lips are full, the faintest of smiles kissing the edges. There is the softest blush upon her cheek, and in her throat.

Her life is the same

Yet something has changed.

.

.

© the author writing as Romantic Dominant/Faded Romantic

This post was written a while ago. But sometimes old things strike new chords.

Art by Laszlo Gulyas

 
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Posted by on November 11, 2022 in D/s, Erotica, Poetry, romance, Still Life

 

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