Poems About Desire Novels & Stories

Sanam's throat was getting dry on his advancing moves. "Do you know for last few days how much I was yearning for you and to spend time with you?" Saying in a husky voice his eyes were fixed on her shivering lips. He moved his face closer to her and stopped merely an inch from her. "For your intimacy..... To feel your touch." Both hearts were beating wildly and both can feel their heavy breathing blowing and feeling on the face of each other. "Asfand I....."

Her breasts stood with hard nipples, and her eyes were filled with a mix of love and lust for me. She bent to kiss me, and I then sucked her mark on my neck, which made a moan escape my lips; I felt my cock twitch, eager to feel her, to release into her, and to feed both our desires. She moved down my body with her tongue copying me, and it felt so fucking good. It made me remember my private dance, and I promised to ask her about it when the war was over. I felt her wrap her hot lip around the tip of my cock, and that was it. She took me in her mouth until my tip hit the back of her throat and began bobbing her head on it.

I don’t know how it happened but his pants and boxers are off freeing his hardness against my wet hot core. “Jack make the pain go away” i whined into his ear. “ i need you” i said again “I know baby” jack says huskily in my ear. P.O.V. Jack My need to touch my mate was the most intense feeling I’ve ever felt in my whole life her skin under my touch was like fire but soothing at the same time i could only imagine what she was feeling at this moment. “Jack i need you to touch me…..i need you inside of me” ren whines.

She’s self centered like that. I notice that it takes mystery woman a moment before she says, “I can’t say that I’m sure. Can you tell?” I study the piece for a few moments again and say the first thing that comes out of my mouth “Longing. There’s a peacefulness that transcends the piece.”

Should I write her name on my heart or the awareness of my existence on her lips? After her disappearing from life, desires started awakening within me. Desires to look into her eyes, sit with her for hours. To hold her hand in mine, to run my fingers through her hair. To listen to her words for hours, to feel her presence. These desires have taken root in my mind, all based on the hope that one day I will meet her and fulfill all the desires. Then, I will stop her from leaving again. I'll keep these desires in my mind, hoping that one day she will meet me to fulfill them. Then, I will keep her close to me and never let her go again.

He flashed his pearly whites at the audience and then with a deep breath, he resumed. "After love and fear, there’s pride; After tears, the night; After all the words are gone, A chair with just one light. After memories, the dream That you will come home safe; After sleep, another day Of waiting for my life. After hope, the happiness Of thinking of your love; After moments of despair A stone no thought can move. After all the sacrifice, The hunger and the pain,

Shit, I need to calm myself down before he gets here, which should be long now since he should have finished with his class by now. Knock knock, I heard a soft knock on my door. I guess it's time. "Come in," I called out. He came inside looking down at his hands not meeting my eyes, "you asked to see me Sir." "Yes, I did. Take a seat Mr Fernandez." I gestured to the chair opposite me. "From your last poem I could tell you were holding something back." I said, trying to keep my tone from coming out too cold. "You have got the tone and everything else right except, you don't let yourself feel it in the writing. Your poem lacks emotions." I continued.

“The way my clit gets hard and throbs. The way my pussy lips swell up and get all puffy, just begging to be touched. I get so drenched. I can smell myself, Father. That sweet, musky smell. It drives me crazy.” “That is enough,” he said, but his voice was strained, a tightrope of tension. “Is it?” I muttered, trembling. “Do you ever feel it, Father Roman? That heat? That ache right here," I pressed a hand low on my belly, "that only gets worse the more you try to ignore it?" Silence. Then, a rustle of fabric. A low, almost inaudible sound. “Christ.” “Do you want to see?” The question was out before I could think, a product of weeks of pent-up fantasy .

The rain continued to fall outside, relentless and indifferent. Inside, three hearts waited in painful silence—each one broken in its own way, each one hoping for a miracle that might never come.

They looked like people who had been exhausted for a long time and had found somewhere safe enough to put it down. The ache in Lena's chest was not jealousy. She had spent enough years being precise about her own interior landscape to know the difference between jealousy and hunger, even when they lived in adjacent rooms. This was hunger. The bone-deep craving of someone who had spent years being desired for her usefulness and had never quite been wanted for herself. The hunger of someone who had learned so early that love left, that it packed its things quietly and went while you were still deciding whether to ask it to stay, that she had built her entire life around the principle of leavin