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Tag Archives: these dark desires

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 has 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 the rain came after a long hot spell. I post again and hope new readers enjoy.

 
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Posted by on August 13, 2020 in Erotica, Poetry, Still Life

 

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Mirror

Art by Francine van Hove

She cannot see herself

as I see her.

Her mirror image rebels.

It dismisses her beauty,

refuses her desirability,

overrules her sensuality,

is cruel to her curves.

She finds herself wanting.

Whereas I

can only stare

and sigh

in awe.

.

.

© the author writing as Romantic Dominant

I first posted this four years ago. Perhaps it is worth sharing again.

Art by Francine Van Hove

 
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Posted by on August 12, 2020 in Poetry, Still Life

 

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Stars aligned

 

Who knows

what paths crossed

what stars aligned

what fates conspired

what destinies combined

but here we are

you and I.

.

.

© the author writing as Romantic Dominant

Art by William Oxer

 
2 Comments

Posted by on August 11, 2020 in D/s, Poetry, Still Life

 

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The Girl in the Photograph

 

The girl in the photograph

The girl in the photograph
is swagger and poise
shyness and hope
uncertainty and strength

The girl in the photograph
is desire and fear
softness and style
fantasy and real

The girl in the photograph
is hunger and joy
knowledge and warmth
rebellion and love

The girl in the photograph
is danger and sex
promise and dreams
intelligence and wild

The girl in the photograph
is not mine
but I wish
she was

.

.

© the author writing as Romantic Dominant

This is not one of my new ones – I think I first posted it five years ago, but I hope you enjoy. Sometimes I see a girl in a photograph…..

Art by William Oxer

 
4 Comments

Posted by on August 10, 2020 in Poetry, Still Life

 

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Jealous

 

I am jealous

of the world

that catches

your scent

that watches

you move

that hears

your voice

that speaks

your name.

.

.

© the author writing as Romantic Dominant

Art by Thomas Saliot

Written a couple of years ago. But jealous …

 
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Posted by on August 9, 2020 in Poetry, Still Life

 

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Wild bird

 

Her hand fluttered

to her throat

like a wild bird.

He captured it

in the safe cage

of his fingers.

He gazed

into her eyes

and stilled

her fears.

.

.

© the author writing as Romantic Dominant

Art by Pascal Chove

 
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Posted by on August 8, 2020 in Poetry, Still Life

 

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New Species

 

You are so rare

so unique

so unexpected

so special

I am certain

I have discovered

a new species.

.

.

© the author writing as Romantic Dominant

Not a brand new post, but sometimes one discovers new species.

Art by Elena Kraft

 
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Posted by on August 7, 2020 in Poetry, Still Life

 

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Across the miles

 

Across the miles

I sense you

talking

laughing

walking

dancing

eating

sleeping

breathing.

 

Across the miles

I sense you.

 

I think

I always will.

.

.

© the author writing as Romantic Dominant

Art by Jacquelyn Bischak

 

 
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Posted by on August 6, 2020 in Poetry, Still Life

 

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Ready

Art by Jimmy Law

She has discovered him.

She has watched him, studied him, scrutinised him, reviewed him, analysed him.

She has surveyed him, evaluated him, interpreted him, considered him.

She has pondered, reflected and deliberated.

She has read him carefully.

She has nervously sipped at the heady wine of his dark religion.

She has tasted it on her tongue, held it in her mouth, felt it slide down her throat.

She has felt dizzy at his power, his control, his command.

She has begun to understand the nature and strength of her own self, her own needs, her own desires..

She is ready for his seduction, his instruction, his domination.

She is ready to be his.

.

.

© the author writing as Romantic Dominant

I wrote this almost exactly four years ago – reposted because I like it.

Art by Jimmy Law

 
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Posted by on August 5, 2020 in D/s, Erotica, Poetry, Still Life

 

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Premonition

 

I have such a powerful

potent

puissant

persuasive

compelling

premonition

that you

will be paradise.

.

,

© the author writing as Romantic Dominant

Not brand new but I have a premonition.

Art by Jeremy Lipking

 
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Posted by on August 4, 2020 in Poetry, Still Life

 

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