punish me Master for I’ve been so very naughty,
reprimand me with your manner that’s stern and haughty,
order me to drape my nakedness across your lap,
so the cheeks of my bottom, can feel hand’s stinging slap,
let me lay over your lap, my body rudely posed,
puckered rosette to swollen lips, utterly exposed,
anticipation of waiting just makes me wetter,
for when it comes to punishment, there’s no one better,
let your hand slowly caress my curvaceous behind,
then slap my bottom hard, please don’t be gentle or kind,
before sting ebbs deliver next upon other cheek,
rain smacks down faster and harder, as my juices leak,
so that my large aching breasts swing wildly to and fro,
smack me my Master, till my cheeks have that reddish glow,
then let my burning behind feel your soothing caress,
and moist swollen lips explore before fingers ingress,
find out how fucking hot and wet your spanking makes me,
that when I’m so aroused all my inhibitions flee,
probe tightness of my bottom, with a moistened digit,
stroke your finger in and out of me, as I fidget,
then stretch my tightness even wider by using two,
make me lick myself from your fingers when you are through,
position me upon the bed on my hands and knees,
my yearning body is yours, to do with as you please,
so pummel me from behind with that rock hard penis,
as I try to smother my own orgasmic nearness,
explode deep in my depths, when to release you succumb,
only then give me permission to finally cum,
being a strict disciplinarian is your forte,
that is why tomorrow I will again be naughty.


though you’ve been gone for many an hour,
the perfume of your essence still lingers,
upon the sheets and upon my fingers,
and memories does my lust empower,
of how you managed to sweeten my night,
with the softness and welcome of your flesh,
the sheer abandoned way in which you thresh,
in those orgasmic moments of delight,
and the tight, wet clasping of your muscles,
just the thought of you, once more seduces,
thoughts of sweetness of those honeyed juices,
as your grasping fingers my hair tussles,
when I held you tenderly by the hips,
for your taste, still lingers upon my lips.

Ready for you

eyes darken and gaze grows in intensity,
thick wicked lips, that smirk so knowingly,
well aware of my wanton propensity,
making my cheeks start to redden glowingly,

your confidence overwhelming any reserve,
pressing body against mine with such ardent desire,
sure that tonight my flesh will submissively serve,
as I feel the yearning pulsating of your fire,

sheer rigid hardness makes it difficult to breathe,
as caresses centre on where my juices brew,
those masterful fingers makes my senses seethe,
anointed in the proof, that I’m ready for you.

Wistfully wishing

infatuated with you and your touch,
wistfully wishing you were here, right now,
ache for your loving, has become too much,
needing attention, which fingers can show,
touching myself, whilst thinking of you,
teasing hardened tips, with brush of the thumbs,
over yearning flesh, to where juices stew,
fingers delving deep, as another strums,
undulating hips, responding to pace,
curling deep inside, to find the right spot,
keeping my thoughts, focused upon your face,
yanking and tweaking, while lifting the bott,
orgasmic ripples, the spread from my hub,
urgently rubbing, as hot juices flood,


my moans echo noisily down the hall,
and to you, they are a summoning call,
seated in the chair, with my back to you,
head rocking back and forth, all you can view,
until my chair slowly swivels around,
my stark wantonness leaving you spellbound,
naked, eyes closed and mouth hanging open,
my seeping juices, does leather seat moisten.

sprawled with my leg draped over the chair’s arm,
caressing my breast with a rubbing palm.
while the nails of other hand, flick at clit,
watching what I usually do in secret,
from the doorway, you’re an eager voyeur,
for the sight of me makes your flesh bestir,
as my fingers curl into my moist heat,
the other hand tugs hard upon left teat.

my heady aroma hangs in the air,
sliding my buttocks forward on the chair,
those soft mewing moans become far more urgent,
as waves of pleasure become insurgent,
fingers rubbing deeply within my quim,
your hardened flesh strains against the denim,
until you decide to quietly undress,
and your now throbbing flesh, slowly caress.

looking out from my heavily hooded eyes,
my fingers delving between splayed thighs,
grin tells you I’m aware of your presence,
and that I don’t really mind your impudence,
for I continue pleasuring myself,
whilst watching you playing with yourself,
the tempo of your curled finger’s stroking,
matching rhythm of my finger’s poking.

gazing deeply into each other’s eyes,
ever faster, fingers plunge between thighs,
thrusting up my hips to meet my digits,
as flesh quivers from sensual ripplets,
both so turned on, by the other’s display,
until I explode and those juices spray,
that’s all that’s needed to bring on your own,
to my trembling cries, you add your loud groan.

Finest vintage

bouquet hangs heavily upon the air,
tempting me to savour, the choicest wine,
my thirsty lips to your vessel draw near,
blushing petals, cannot desire confine,
for they glisten, from your liquor’s leakage,
as fingers part those delicate petals,
your nectar tastes of the finest vintage,
tongue flickering deep inside, unsettles,
drinking deeply of you, to that last drop,
full bodied but easy on the palate,
obviously from an excellent crop,
as those moist swollen petals flush scarlet,
definitely one for the connoisseur,
that I could easily come to prefer.

Harder and faster

holding on with arms and legs, wanting more,
blood like molten lava, through veins does race,
hardness thrusting into my flooding core,
hips wantonly lifting, to match your pace,
guttural pleas, emanating from throat,
saying I want it, harder and faster,
stroking flesh glistening, where juices coat,
wet hairs, against sweaty flesh does plaster,
as hardness plunges deep into hot crease,
flesh held hostage by tight clamping spasm,
your tide swells, and spills in spurts of release,
potent offering filling my chasm,
every nerve ending, alive to your touch,
as those orgasmic waves over us rush.