Author: WildandLovely

I have led you here. [FM] [soft suckling in the Scottish lowlands] [outdoor oral] [feelsy]

I have watched your calves strain to carry your muscle and bone through the lowlands; listened to low hum of your breath ahead of me, surveying the rolling hills below us. We keep getting closer to the sky, and I can’t tell if I’m lightheaded due to the altitude or from being so close to you in such silence for so long.

I don’t know how to say what I want to say.

I don’t know how to say what I want to say, which is that I have waited a lifetime to find someone good enough to bring here, to lay down among the heather. Now we’re here, lost to the world in the Ochils, it feels almost criminal to disturb the peace of the wind whispering through your hair. I know I should be grateful for sunshine but mostly I am grateful for the line of your shoulder blades and the silence between us, which is calm and comfortable and not as fraught and charged as that shared with shadows from my past.

That’s what I thought love was. Racing hearts and sweaty palms and feeling like the ground might crumble if he-who-I-loved didn’t hold it up. Read more »

“Congratulations, love.” [getting together finally] [F4M] [former colleagues] [first time together] [the sweetest]

I extend my arms to your sheepish form, grad robes and mortarboard slightly askew. You’ve worked hard, I think, to finish your degree., and I’ll miss you, I think, staying on to get my M.F.A., and I’m probably sweating from the sunshine, I think, as you pull my lips to yours all too suddenly, grinning all-too-wide.

We haven’t kissed since the first time. Since you told me you couldn’t see anyone on your course—even if you really, really wanted to.

Winter turned to spring turned to fall and it’s winter anew and I’m suddenly melting in your arms, shocked beyond surprise. You’re still grinning when you pull away.

“I’m still on course,” I gasp, wondering if I’ll laugh or cry when this ocean of adoration I’ve kept raging for you tips over. You reach up and move your tassel over, a cheeky afterthought, and say, “I’m not.”

This time I kiss you, launching up against your chest, taking your head in my hands, tugging too tightly at the auburn twists springing up from your scalp. All this time, I thought I was the only one holding on to these little butterflies, but the way you wrap your arms around my back and pull me up closer tells me you’ve been saving the feelings you once told me you shoved deep down in a box in your heart. Read more »

Stuck [FM] [devil’s in the] [explicit details] [physiology] [stretching me open]

Here’s something I find luxurious: the pucker and pull of my hole around you as you draw out of me—shivering, biting back a grunt to disguise your restraint—the relenting stretch of my strongest, tenderest skin giving way to your hot and heavy cock as you enter back in.

I am welcoming you in the most animal way I know how, settling your cells on an ancient level. Calling you home.

You shudder at the feel of my muscle kissing your most virile, most vulnerable flesh. The idea someone would want to hold it safe and warm inside their body moves you. The idea that you crave me holding you in this way moves me.

So I move.

If I speak, I’ll cry or else laugh, so I let the silence stand. I try my best to memorise the surreality of you pushing me open using this bit of you.

Maybe it sounds foolish to verbalise all this. Maybe this is how everyone feels, aware or not. I hope they appreciate it all. Read more »

12.52 a.m. [just a lil’ note] [wanting]

I have some sort of pain but I pushed past it to masturbate because if I didn’t come around my dildo, I would have sent the text in my drafts:

*I just want to sit on your face—I can’t think of anything else x*

I want you, in every way. [F4M [soft] [that guy]

I know my letter hasn’t made it to you—my letter full of all the naughty, heathenish things I want  to do to/with/on you—but I have an addendum:

I want to pet your shoulders, wrap my forearms under your arms and up your back, hold onto you like a harness while you catch you breath. 

I want to play with your hair until you fall asleep on the couch with your head in my lap, watching Audrey live her dream Italian life. 

I want to sit like that for an hour after you drift off, and study all the bits of your relaxed face I never get to see anymore. 

I want to sit in your lap and shave you with a straight razor, like in Bond, and watch you nervously accept your fate and practice trusting me. I want to rub cream into your cheeks, mould them into funny faces, then take your life into my hands. Show you how I will never, ever let you get hurt. Follow the curves of your body which is somehow not just a gift to you but also, now, to me? Wrap a warm towel on your chin; douse you in oil. Kiss you until you lean all the way back onto the bathroom tiles, and have my way with you there.  Read more »

when I see you again [to-do list] [do-YOU list] [FM]

* kiss you all over
* on your eyelids
* on the corner of your mouth
* on the skin between your fingers
* hug you
* sit on you in restaurants
* order your food obviously, so you don’t have to speak to strangers
* hold your hand obnoxiously everywhere we walk
* and sing really loudly because I’m happy as fuck
* sorry those are the rules
* brush your hair & do your eyeliner
* give you a scalp massage
* give you a back massage
* sit naked on your back and rub lotion everywhere
* feel you up in the cinema we love
* we can sit in the back row so nobody knows
* take you to the beach
* play the penny arcade & watch you win
* make you buy me ice cream cos I’m pissed at how you win everything
* get pissed on the pier and almost fall asleep making out in the sand
* fall asleep on your shoulder on the train home
* hold your hand at the museum
* hold your hand in the park
* hold your hand
* even when mine gets a little sweaty and you try to take yours away
* re-enact all your favourite shower fantasies
* stand behind you, skin of my chest to the skin of your back, wringing you out dry
* and afterwards we can bathe each other
* and I will wash your hair with my rose shampoo
* hold you in bed, stroke you everywhere
* everywhere
* grind a little like I do to fall asleep when you’re big spoon
* I’m sure you won’t mind. Xx

wish list [FM] [missing someone and daydreaming]

I savour sitting on your hips, feeling my thighs against your own. Squeezing them tightly to your sides, knees to the dip of your waist. I’m wasted on the ocean waves of riding you, lifting and dropping as tenderly as my heart requires. My eyes keep slipping closed, trying to hone in on the slip of a vein as you drag down inside of me, the curve of your head as you burrow in tightly. There is no embarrassment in your eagerness because, goddamn, I’m as earnest as I’ve ever been.

I brush a curl out of your eyes; cradle your neck as you press your lips to my throat. Your fingers get tangled in my hair and you come unsheathed from me and I laugh, harder still when you steer me with your stolen hand underneath you, leaving me to slip you back inside. 

Some snide remark is cut off by your moan and I think, god, how lucky I am. 

You’re still nervous to hurt me, so I put a warm hand to your thigh and press enough for you to feel that I am grounded and I am safe. We are both safe here.  Read more »

I took care of you last time. But I need you, baby. [FM] [against the wall] [come inside] [l-bomb]

You said we wouldn’t even make it to my bed, and you were right. But I envision, in these lonely hours, you slamming the door shut, pushing your hands up my jumper, and immediately pulling your stomach to mine, grinding up into me so there’s no way you can talk your way around how badly you want me. 

You want me. You need me, wrapping all of you up all around you, knowing you inside-out, cushioning the blow of the world. I need that you. 

If that you got a plane ticket, I would grind back against you. Knot one hand in your hair, press one against the centre of your back, and get my hips as close to yours as I can. Give in to the wood grain on my neck, your jetlag airport toothpaste on my tongue. 

God, I want your cock. 

Are you stroking yourself now? Can’t take this bit of paper in the shower. But you could take me—

—getting ahead of myself. Read more »

I take care of my things. [FM] [gentle femdom]

I’ve been neglecting you. Unintentional, but unacceptable all the same.

We’ve both been caught up keeping our heads above the waves. I’m sure it feels like you’re just treading water but know I see just how hard you’re working—how mindful and caring you’re being. Especially with yourself.

That’s a good boy. But I think it’s time for someone else to take care of you. And who might that be?

Come here. I want to hold you.

Focus on the rumble of the bath as I peel off your jacket, your shirt, everything holding you in and back. Let me help you into the water. I’ve filled it with the scent you love most to find in my hair as we’re walking in the afternoons; now I’m all around you, caressing your skin clean and marking you as mine.

I give this to you.

I give you nails scrubbing at the depths of your scalp and fingers gently threading sweet oil into the roots. I give you a proper sea sponge-down which is firm in the way I can only be because I know all of your body, including the sensitive and rough places. I give you a warm towel and a warm peck and a warm hug. Read more »

The Right Choice [FM] [outdoor/public] [just mmph] [age gap/May-December]

Asphault, frigid against the underside of my thighs. Cigarette smoke, wafting down the dark & closed street of the rich and famous, originating with a glow between your lips, then your fingers as you breathe, expanding starward.

“How many of them are cunts?” You cavalier—the superhuman to make cavaliering a verb—winding your wrist backwards toward the fête we have shirked in favour of midnight fog and more grounded company.

“92 percent,” I reckon. “A few are nice, until they want something they can’t have. Always a couple gems.”

You grunt non-comittally, in emphasis of your general distrust of human beings.

“Versus out here,” I continue, “Where the figure is a clear hundred.” I swing my hair out of the path of vision to catch your smirk, open at the corner to keep smoke from settling into my perfumed bubble.

“Oh, nah,” you drawl, “‘Figure there’s only one.” I raise my eyebrows, implying a bite I’m unwilling to commit to fully, out in the open. Catching the drift, you shake your head as if to shake away the train of thought. “Yikes, Kitten. Gutter brains.” Read more »