viking Master

She was different

So different

…. I wanted to

Grab her by the hair

Push her against the wall

And kiss her.

Suffocate her.

Drown her ......in my lust

I prefer to Choose

Who I love?

And How I love  

not by what

is fashionable

respectable

or appropriate

It is in whispers

And secret touches

That we share our fire

She was the rose

Eager to give her fragrance

To the one that held her

Even if held tight

But not too tight

For there was always the thorn

“Whimpers

became barely audible moans

To verbal obscenities

Joined by grunts

To primal rhythms

beating faster

turning to screams

A symphony

Praise to almighty

…………..God “

Trust…can take many moons to build…yet be lost in a second.

But once established, it opens the door to discovery, magic and obsession…

…and we all require a little of that, don’t we….