The Literary Courtesan

An erotic salon where my pen will stroke your senses. sorciere.ecrivaine@gmail.com

Monday, April 18, 2005

Mesopotamia

Mesopotamia

"I want to taste your history," he said,
his tongue at the entrance to me.
"You taste like salted honey,"
I thought of ancient lands,
of honey offered to
goddesses.
I felt myself begin
to flow toward him,
Offering myself to him,
wanting his tongue there,
just there,
the nugget of me
being suckled.
Honeysuckle.
I began to open then,
to feel my secrets
seep from me,
into his mouth,
his gentle mouth that felt
like the legs of the bee
upon my flesh.
I felt the buzz then within me,
a hum of a thousand bees beneath my mons,
louder, louder,
so I thought he
might hear it,
this thing that was moving like a swarm
through me.
I felt myself rise under his mouth, felt
myself push against his lips and tongue and chin,
myself the offering,
myself the goddess.

Virginity can Kill You

The Divas over at CultureKitchen are stirring it up today. Between claiming ownership of their bodies, and talking about losing virginity, it's a great day to go pay them a visit.

And yes. I'm working on another little morsel for this site. But hey. If you want to know what I can really do, contact me directly and let me write you a private story.