Father-Daughter Relationship

“A dad is a daughter’s first love and he, by virtue of his exalted paternal stature, remains most influential in shaping how the daughter expects to be treated by men later on in her life. I am afraid good fathers indeed set the bar high.”

-The Little Mermaid, MMXVI

I need you to make love to me

I need you to make love to me
But intense and raunchy I want it to be.
I heard lukewarm is no good
So tear me apart, open up your manhood.
Nah nah nah sweet boy
I’m not talking about the physically exhausting wham-bam-thank-you-ma’am
I’m talking about the mentally titillating one, goddamn.

Ice cold air, rich champagne, playful bonfire and sensual candles
Silk blanket, velvet linen and you away only a few bandles.
I could be a slave to your charms in a tick
Before you even think, though, to manoeuvre your hands over my body
I want you to drive me to a sizzling frenzy and wheedle my mind filthily.
Trust me when I say that darling
It is all worth it, your lustful yearning.

I need you close to me, whispering sweet nothings in my ear
Bring me to my knees, leave me a writhing mess, oh dear.
You might begin to wonder if words alone are enough
Well of course baby, without bluff.
The mind is the gateway to paradise and you know it too
I promise I’ll take you on a wild fleshly expedition
If you could just nurture my salacious cerebral gratification.

So why don’t you undress the many layers of my thoughts
And kiss every pearly bruise at secret spots?
Why don’t you remove any encumbrance
And touch my hidden conscience?
Why don’t you subtly stroke my ego
And stimulate my psychic libido?
Might I begin to drown in erotic desire and beg you wantonly?

Please sex me up, sweating, panting and shaking
Your raw body intertwined with mine is what I now want so bad, truly speaking.
I need you to make love to me in its glorious nudity
For you’ve already owned my soul totally.
Ah it kills me not to touch you in this game of the brain
The time is just so right
Come inside. 

*Image borrowed from Google

How

How would you value love if you have never been heartbroken?
How would you create light if you have never lived downtrodden?

How would you treasure friendship if you have never travelled the path of loneliness?
How would you feel grateful for your food if you have never slept on an empty stomach hopeless?

How would you be thankful for each day unfurled if you have never kissed near-death pain?
How would you make time for the great if you have never paused for life’s mundane?

How would you cherish memories in old days if you have never dared to build them now?
How would you reach the zenith of success if you have never touched the pit of failure slough?

How would you learn if you have never let the strings of your imagination wander?
How, just how, would you believe in the power of dreams if you have never sailed away from the safe harbour a little bolder?

My message to you:
Deal with life as it comes-with grace and courage.
Live. Breathe. Reflect. And take chances.

Who is she?

Molded from love, contoured by values,
She is painted with a thousand different hues.

Eyes with dews, a beautiful mind to peruse,
She has a heart that rescues.

A beloved daughter, a tender wife and a doting mother in good stead,
She brings home the bacon, the cheddar and the bread.

A life-giver, a nurturer and a healer,
A master-chef, a caretaker and a stripper.

Her roles are no easy,
You would agree.

Delicate like a rose petal,
Yet so full of fierce mettle.

She cries her soul out the whole night,
To bring forth her brightest smile during daylight.

Ever-sacrificing for her dears,
Never disowning her nears.

She is God’s most precious gift to man,
She is a Woman. 

(Image borrowed from Google)

A Taste Of The Forbidden Fruit (Part II)

“Do you like wine, love?”, Paul mumbled succintly and teasingly in her ear in a deep, gentle voice that educed an aristocratic tender masculinity.

“Pardon me?” Esther replied, confused and beguiled; quite oblivious of where the conversation was going, but so conscious of her large bust brushing against his broad chest in that moment. She felt a tingling sensation down there. Esther drew a quick breath to regain her composure.

“Have you ever tasted red French wine?” He simpered again, crookedly.

“Er..I suppose, yes”, she answered huskily, obviously not wanting to disturb the strange, thrilling atmosphere between them.

A long speech on the world’s best French wines ensued.

“French wines are one of the choicest wines available on the market. Especially those made from Shiraz from France’s Rhone Valley. A red French wine, darling, is bright to look at, it is noble in character and it feels intense, concentrated, deep..It possesses elegance.”

“I see…” Esther responded, while she continued to stare in this charming stranger’s eyes, delving in the profundity of his thoughts to figure out what he was really talking about; for nothing, categorically nothing, but him, made sense to her.

“You are like French wine, my dear. Young, yet so ripe. Bold, yet so supple. Sparkling, yet so balanced. You’re so beautiful.”

At that point, Paul got goosebumps. Something inside him shuddered. His arms slipped to her waist and tightened around her. Then he drew her closer. Her fragrance was just as commanding as she was-smelling a mixture of sweet jasmine and salted vanilla. He gazed down at those slumberous eyes and parted bee-stung lips in the dim light. Esther reflexly knew this tempting inveigler was in control. Hitherto, he was.

“That if I kissed you..” She waited, but he never finished the sentence. Her eyes closed, and she softened in his arms.

He leaned in and brushed his raw lips across hers, testing the delicate skin, absorbing the heat. He amended next, playfully, pausing, puckering, nibbling on her moist lips for a single heartbeat. This roused Esther because at that instant, she desperately needed more-she needed him, wild and consuming. Now this was torture.

Just when he touched her lower lip with his tongue, Paul felt his penis stiffen as it pressed against her. Then he opened his mouth again, angled his head, captured her full lips and sealed them together in a fusion of heat and pent-up passion. She instinctively came up on her toes, and he settled his arm more firmly around her tiny waist, pulling her vehemently against his tension-filled body. His fingers tangled in her hair as he kissed her longer, harder, deeper. She thrust her tongue inside his mouth and explored every secret corner. In a matter of seconds, they were soul-kissing voraciously; completely in sync with each other. For that short lascivious period of time, there was no beginning. There was no end. Only one thing mattered in the universe. That kiss.

“Give me your tongue”, breathed Esther, suggestively when they slightly parted for air. And she started sucking on his tongue gently, in and out of her mouth as she cupped his chiseled face with both hands and he squeezed her peachy bottom.

The kiss went on-occasionally changing from light and frisky to unyielding and serious. Paul swore his damsel not only looked like French wine, but she tasted like one too; and that his thirst would never be satiated for an eternity. He kissed her neck. She tipped her head back and gave him free access, biting down her lower lip. He spread his legs, pulling her tight into the vee. His fingertips-strong, calloused and erotic tightened on her sore nipples; and shock waves ricocheted between her thighs. It was so good. So incredibly, unbelievably good.

They wanted each other. Naked. As one energy. But good things seldom last long. Realization dawned. Esther instantly pulled away. Without thinking, she ran as fast as her feet could carry her, into the unknown, but at least in her mind she was going far away from this man.

Hunger knows no moral.
Lust knows no boundary.
Basic instincts drive us into animals.
And animals know no sin. 

Esther seemed to pacify her obstinate heart, trying hard to forget the face of that stranger. Alas! He was no stranger. Paul was her soulmate. And she just lost her soulmate.

(The End)

*Image borrowed from Google