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Lust

What I feel for you

might be lust

but it is pure

unadulterated

creative

admiring

adoring

enduring

once-in-your-lifetime

lust.

.

.

© the author writing as Romantic Dominant

Art by Aydemir Saidov

 
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Posted by on November 23, 2021 in D/s, Erotica, Poetry, romance, Still Life

 

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How?

How could you

have walked

talked

danced

sung

ate

drank

breathed

worked

smiled

slept

laughed

loved

existed

in this world

without me

somehow knowing

of your presence?

.

.

© the author writing as Romantic Dominant/Faded Romantic

This was written a while ago – yet I ask the question.

Art by Nathalie Picoulet

 
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Posted by on November 17, 2021 in 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

Art by Laszlo Gulyas

 
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Posted by on November 16, 2021 in 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

Not brand new writing, but she is drawn

Art by William Oxer

 
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Posted by on November 15, 2021 in D/s, Erotica, Poetry, romance, Still Life

 

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Instant Addiction

You are that

utterly intoxicating

completely breathtaking

totally electrifying

first try

single fix

immediate hit

raw rush

heavenly high

instant addiction

I never knew

existed.

.

.

© the author writing as Romantic Dominant

Not a brand new post – but sometimes, rarely, one becomes instantly addicted

Art by Mark Spain

 
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Posted by on November 14, 2021 in 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

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 13, 2021 in D/s, Erotica, Poetry, romance, Still Life

 

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Right moment

There is no sense

in waiting

for the right moment

because right moments

are only recognised

some time after

they have gone.

.

.

© the author writing as Romantic Dominant

Not the first time I have posted this. But invariably true.

Art by Victor Bauer

 
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Posted by on November 10, 2021 in Poetry, romance, Still Life

 

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Every day

Her desire

for his darkness

becomes more

dangerous

delicious

decadent

deep

and dirty

every day.

.

.

© the author writing as Romantic Dominant

Art by Hamish Blakely

 
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Posted by on November 9, 2021 in D/s, Erotica, Poetry, romance, Still Life

 

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Some women wear heels

art-by-paul-kelley

Some women wear heels

like a foal

taking its first brave steps

wobbly and uncertain

yet somehow

sweetly elegant.

Some women wear heels

with sensual

feline grace

and a perfect

beautiful certainty

that takes my breath away.

I adore both.

.

.

© the author writing as Romantic Dominant/Faded Romantic

I wrote this some years ago. I still adore both.

Art by Paul Kelley

 
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Posted by on November 8, 2021 in Erotica, Poetry, romance, Still Life

 

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Long Night

They are alone.

No outside sound can disturb this stillness. No alien light can penetrate this darkness.

He touches her skin. She catches her breath.

He moves his slender fingers lightly across her cheek. Over her lips. It tingles like electricity. She parts them the width of a sigh. He feels her breath like a whisper.

He gently strokes the underside of her jaw. Fingers and thumb go either side of her throat. Her pulse is as rapid as the beating heart of a small bird. He squeezes almost imperceptibly. She raises her chin and leans slightly into his hand.

He releases her. With the palest of caresses, he navigates the curve of her breast. He circles the areola, the miniature terrain like braille. He finds her nipple hard and urgent. He teases it. She swears she can feel the raised, complicated whorl of his fingerprint.

Index and thumb again, like a pincer, capture the perfect rosebud. He tugs gently. She moans close to his ear. She is hungry. He tightens his grip. She feels it like fire. It tracks in a line of pure white heat down her belly and deep into the heart of her sex. She is wet. Tighter still and the pain is impossible pleasure. She wants him to stop – but never.

He lowers his mouth onto hers. She gasps into it as another intense wave thrills through her body. She thrusts herself against him. Wishing her hands were free, yet glad they are not. Needing muscle, needing bone, needing his hand, needing his cock to satisfy her delicious, frantic, gorgeous yearning.

There is no light. No sound.

Only them.

And the long night.

.

.

© the author writing as Romantic Dominant/Faded Romantic

Some time ago I was going through my old words and found this – written around this time eight years ago. I like it. I hope you enjoy it.

Art by Jeremy Mann

 
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Posted by on November 4, 2021 in D/s, Erotica, Poetry, romance, Still Life

 

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