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The yearning

 

Sometimes

you feel it

in your bones

in your skin

in your heart

in your soul

in every fibre

of your being

and you know

it is what you want

it is what you need

and nothing

will stop

the yearning.

.

.

© the author writing as Romantic Dominant

Art by Hamish Blakely

I wrote this last year. But there is always a yearning ….

 
2 Comments

Posted by on July 26, 2019 in D/s, Erotica, Poetry, Still Life

 

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In hand

 

Rain has just started to fall

It is a hot, close, velvet summer’s night at the end of a sweltering, oppressive August day. Three hours ago the sun sank overripe behind the suffering trees. Midnight arrived steamily, with thunder rumbling like rumour in its wake. The stars are invisible behind a thick blanket of inky cloud. There is no moon. The air is heavy with the fragrance of honeysuckle and roses, and alive with the coming storm.

I stand alone on the terrace in the dark garden letting the new, warm breeze ruffle my hair and tug at my thin shirt. I have been unable to escape the heat all day. I can smell the coming deluge. I feel the electricity. It raises the hairs on the back of my neck.

Suddenly the black night is illuminated as if by a photo flash. A beat of a strobe light. For an instant the world is stark black and white. A brief, shocked silence and then the crack of thunder. Loud. Primal. A battlefield in the heavens.

Rain.

A monsoon. A deluge. A flood. Hissing, sizzling, pissing, lashing down.

It is like being in an almost cold shower fully clothed. I stand my ground and am soaked within a minute. And yet despite the falling temperature I am still burning like a furnace inside.

I walk out barefoot onto the middle of the lawn. Past the sleeping sundial and the overflowing bird bath. Finding my way through familiarity and the brief, ghostly-white illuminations

I undo the buttons of my sodden shirt and strip it from my shoulders, dropping it to the grass. I tug at the buckle of my brown leather belt and slide down the zip of my blue jeans, black with moisture. I have to peel them off me, the material clinging to my thighs. I slip down my stretchy black boxers. They lie at my feet like a dead bird.

As if delighted by my nakedness the intensity of the rain increases. It wants to punish me. It falls so heavily that it stings me. My skin tingles and the water runs down my body in cool rivers. Over my shoulders, chest and back. Over my belly. Into my dark curls. Down my slender, muscular thighs.

I close my eyes as the lightning splits the night. Thunder booms and crashes overhead. My pulse has quickened, my mouth is dry. There is a growing ache within me.

I stretch my arms upwards. Drawing the tempest to me.

I realise that I am hard. Swollen. Proud. Erect.

And as the storm breaks around me in fury I give myself up to its elemental power.

I take myself purposefully in hand.

.

.

© the author writing as Romantic Dominant

Photo taken from the internet. It as no details of source. If it is yours I will happily delete or credit.

I wrote this in the summer of 2014. A hot August day after a spell without rain. Today (25th July 2019) is the hottest July day ever recorded in the UK. So this time I am reposting it and thinking about rain on my skin.

 
10 Comments

Posted by on July 25, 2019 in Erotica, Poetry, Still Life

 

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Her body

 

Her Body

.

Her body is my playground

A wonderland of curves and lines.

Of sweet breasts and urgent nipples.

Of rolling hips and elegant thighs.

.

Her body is my canvas

A perfect page on which to paint my words,

to daub my prose,

to  scratch my spidery, inky, dangerous poetry.

.

Her body is my church

A hallowed and sacred place

A holy ground on which to worship

And adore.

.

.

© the author writing as Romantic Dominant

Written five years ago, and repeated a few times.  But you might have missed it.

Art by Omar Ortiz

 
2 Comments

Posted by on July 6, 2019 in D/s, Erotica, Poetry, Still Life

 

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Shiver

Art by Yanjun Cheng

A shiver.

A delicious, electric, thrilling shiver.

An ice hot sensation rushing from the nape of her neck to the base of her spine.

It hurries to her throat and steals her breath.

It colours her skin with a sudden, rosy, tell-tale blush.

It hardens her nipples as if touched by a kiss

It dances wild across her belly and hips.

It makes her gasp as it tugs at her thighs

It penetrates her sex.

A shiver

Running down her spine

Coming from him.

.

.

© the author writing as Romantic Dominant

Art by Yanjun Cheng

A post from five years ago. Yet hopefully it resonates.

 
6 Comments

Posted by on July 1, 2019 in D/s, Erotica, Poetry, Still Life

 

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Something for her

LETIZIA A LA SIESTA

She wishes he would write something for her.

A fantasy of endless, velvet, star-filled skies.

Of a wild, round, luminous moon hanging like a silver lantern. Of a warm, perfumed breeze stroking her hair and tugging gently at her dress.

Of the distant strains of a yearning, lone violin fading and rising through the whispering trees.

Of his hands releasing the pale silk gown from her eloquent shoulders, and it running off her naked body like a caress and falling with a sigh at her feet.

Of her perfect, dangerous, wondrous curves laid out by him on a cool, crisp white linen sheet. Of her arms and legs stretched wide. Of his tongue, his lips, his fingers over every inch of her tingling skin, upon her sensual mouth, her exquisite breasts, and her urgent, swollen, fragrant sex.

Of him filling her with pleasure, with joy, and with himself.

In every way.

.

She wishes he would write something for her.

He just has.

.

.

© the author writing as Romantic Dominant

Art by Fabian Perez

I wrote and posted this five years ago, and since. Definitely the Romantic side of RD. I am rather fond of it. I hope readers do not mind the repeat

 
2 Comments

Posted by on June 2, 2019 in Erotica, Poetry, Still Life

 

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Self Portrait

 

 

The camera’s eye blinks

the silent shutter

closing on her image

capturing it perfectly,

a paradise of lines and curves

a heaven of hair and skin

a rapture of pure arousal

posed only for him.

.

.

© the author writing as Romantic Dominant

Written three years ago. I hope it is worthy of a repost.

Photograph taken from Pinterest, provenance unknown. If it is yours please let me know and I will remove or credit you.

 
2 Comments

Posted by on May 12, 2019 in D/s, Poetry, Still Life

 

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The thought

 

Although she resists

the thought of it

fills her head.

It steals her breath

makes her dizzy

and leaves her weak

at the knees.

.

It shivers down her spine

tugs at her belly

and caresses

oh so dangerously

her thighs.

And now

she has thought it

she cannot

un-think it

however hard

she tries.

.

.

© the author writing as Romantic Dominant

First posted three years ago. Sometimes perhaps true?

Photography by Benjamin Askinas. Model: Amanda@FordModelsLA

 
4 Comments

Posted by on May 11, 2019 in D/s, Erotica, Poetry, Still Life

 

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