Twin Flames

'Passion' is a much overused word. A cliche even. This is part of a missive by my lover, missimos. It defines passion:

If I shut my eyes I can wash through me the excitement it is to have sex with you.  How you feel when you're becoming aroused.  Makes me crazy. Fans my flames.  Well you would darling.  Your air sun & ascendant does just that to this girl with the fire sun and venus.  

In fact. You. The thought of you and the most passionate sex, are entwined in me when I think on you.    Think on you and sex is never far behind ; )

I want to eat you.  Just one night. In bed with you.  I want to burn you alive the ways I've often said that you burn me.  

It isn't just your earthy charms and blood red cock that inflames me.  It isn't just your pale white skin and handful thighs I want.  Not your freckled arms cast nets about me.  

Nor can it be just your cherry mouth that breathes such sighs.  The way sound of air through you changes when your blood runs and your pulse thickens.  

Though I love the sounds of you in my ears as your love turns to lust.  Every part of my body ripples in response to the small cries of your throat as it sounds out your passion in ragged halting tongue.  I listen to you when you're aroused. Do you know this?

I listen to you climb the alabaster stairs to your heights.  It's a place you take me to. By the hand and by the beat in my cunt. 

I only have to think on you and my cunt quickens.  It's the most marvellous express of lusty response I've ever felt.   Maybe because I feel more in my body than I ever have before, with anyone.   The ways you touch me with your spirit stir the passionate within me.  All without hands.    So much so, that though we do not meet face to face and skin to skin via our unusual methods of electronic sound and video waves, still can I feel the waves of you through me.  Through my body I recall the sensations of you, inside of me. 

And I draw you there now. As I sometimes do. Late at night.  Curling up in my bed.  Rather than draw the sheets full over me, I draw you over me.   You up me.  Like a wave of red and blue from the tops of my feet, cascade up and over and through my legs, till a flood of you so drowns my cunt in your ardour.  

The energy of your ardour.  I replay it through me at will.  Because I know what you feel like in the dark my darling. I know the taste and the scent of your sex.   I know the feel of your mighty purple rod in my small hands.  I know it.  I know it. I know it.  

And I cover my belly to breasts in your waves ~ holographically, till the cool imprints of you burn and tingle my nipples.  Keeping pace with the ripples in cunt that match the curling of my toes.  As the do when you lean full into me.  

And the weight of your body is known then to me. Your flesh through me above me within me without me.  To feel as I do now. You above me. Lay atop me your mouth upon mine.  Your cock full in me and I am full of you and I'm wet with you, as your tongue finds its mark within my wet mouth.  

I want you.   You. 

You I want.   The man with the maps and the music.  The man with the charm and the humour.  The wit and the eyes that are witness to time.   

I want my hands full of your blues and your reds.  I want my hands over your thighs and your balls.  

I want my pert kiss, warm upon your sweet cock.  Milky warm honey to paint my nipples to paint my belly.  To paint my cunny.  

I'm going to spell your name on my breasts with your honey pre-cum.  Till you tit-fuck the letters illegible.   Till I can't think the letters for the fire in my brains.  And the scent of you between my breasts makes me heady.  

I want the smell of your cumming over me upon me within me.  Make me wet with your cum.  Sticky and sweet.  Rubbing all your sweet softened meat upon my skin.  

Then I'll curl up on my side.  My arse a generous spoon.  Barely falling to sleep as your arms around me mouth on my neck and your fingers toy my nipples till I cannot sleep for the fires that you stoke in me.    

So easily.  A little of your sweet air, blown over me, and I'm climbing again to the peaks where we meet.

Seneca Speaks True

The following happens to be the first thing I ever put on our twitter feed.   It's more true today than when I first met you.   I can't help but feel that this journey of ours has been to learn more sharply about what love and lust is, and what it isn't.

For some of the lucky, it is in fact 'lovst'

That said ~ this is for you.   Something I made with you clearly in mind.  

A returning to you, some of the love that you have so freely given me in this past year ...

Hologram

                  Ah fuck!  I'm a mess Mr Nicimos! 

And not just from your kind replies here for me, most recent.  That retweet you'd done couldn't be more spot on my languid darling.  

OH HOW I WANT YOU!  

          I just sent a reply to one of your emails.  Lost track of the subject when the matter became You! 

     Such a fierce longing I have for your body just now.  

     As my words will attest, just how strongly I want you upon my bare breast!

     Has it been too long since we last met? Am I crazed like this always when foolish enough to spend moments reviewing your body in thought?

     I know it so well it's more than a hologram I play upon my body.  You know it is!

               You leave me satisfied.  Every.  Time.  Yet you leave me small embers that can never go out!

                I have all the You any woman could want stored between my thighs and you ride in on my breath.

     I don't tire of you. Cause you've never left me. 

     You're that ember I carry with me wherever I go. Between my legs & burns in my heart.

               Every time I lay down conflagration and you.   

               Full over my face and the bed beneath burns.  

               Sleep finds me tender scorched in your arms.

     Impossible fire and impossible warm wettest love.   Apollo burns the Ocean till she gives up her secret sides.  Pearl and shell open to view.

     Startled awake by the fingers of an undersea volcano.   Water and lust.   All fire.  All thrust.  Venus wakens.   Heated mist maiden fingered.

     Smiling in her sleep while the barnyard beast tickles her sleep.  

     Purple rod that tickles and toys her soft dreaming.

     Awake as she sleeps.   

     This mortal Apollo teaches her the walking of ways between dream and daylight.

             Even so, sleepy now she furls.   A mouth full of embers

                 and honeyed she keeps

                      his warm soul in her sleep.   Xxx

Inside one nine seven four ~

Tirzah Garwood  ~ The Cat Wife 1930

                    I dream of a daddy with eyes like wells
                    Blinking, blue the stories he tells

                    He reaches me inside one nine seven four

                    Only we hold the key to this door

                    Inches from mine, these pools of azure

                    Pale white skin traverses the floor

                    He talks of coffee; a shop where we’ll meet

                   Where brown nudges blue and hearts skip a beat

                   Side by side, I sit with my beau

                   His English Cologne making me show

                   That my fondness for him is as deep as the well

                   Love knows no distance; of that I can tell

                    I draw on my coffee and nothing is said

                   He flashes his blue that takes me instead -

                   To the room that we share, somewhere off the hall

                   Of garish carpets, lampshades and all

                   As we fall down the well to that place we call sleep

                   I hold him inside and there I will keep.

                   Where brown touches blue and a new colour is born

                   I’m inside my Xander, at least now ‘til dawn

                                               Written by Xander Nicimos, through the eyes of his Missimos ~

Blue Fire Suns

  

I've just received from you by electronic horseman the most striking picture of you. 

A wonderful thing to wake to.  I just woke up now and put on my phone and there you were ~

How terribly handsome you are.   Xander!  Of late you've followed me everywhere.  I keep seeing your name in everything!

New films.  Old films.  

In front of my face when I'm out most mundane-fully shopping, and there you are!  Your name up on the wall in the department store.  Look.  There's your name in the credits, or on a mother's tongue as she calls her child.    

Wherever I see it or hear it I'm reminded again how much I've always liked this name you carry.  And in these more recent instants it'd be nigh unto impossible to not think on you ~

This photo has such a lovely clear view of your eyes.  Aren't they just that more than bit of bewitching?  The look in them is strong.  It's also a little taunting!

This look positively screams 'come closer if you dare (and I'll eat you where you stand).

Golly!  

You ARE a dangerous man to know. Get too close to those blue pools and you'll fall right in.  Mesmerized by the things you're not sure you're seeing in their depths.  I mean, how can it be that blue pools can have arcs of fire moving and swimming beneath these waves?

      So, you look a little closer.  And you see frosty winking jewels in tones of 'come get me treasure'

      And you look a little closer and, wait for it!  Are there books and books and books lining shelves there?  You blink.   Shake your head and new images appear.   Of wily sweet women with legs that go on for days, and impossibly high breasts.  They pout and arc their backs, purring like kittens under your careful hands.

I don't want to be one of them, yet, just standing here at your edge I think I begin to smell the perfumes they breathe on the backs of my hands, and swirling between my legs.   Yes.  There's more than a little desire down there.  More than a harem.

     I lean back and catch your quiet study of me.  Like a pool I see reflected in your eyes your reflections of me.  I see those mythic beasts of old, but I see there no Harpies, not one Medusa.  I see in my face you trace Persephone and the brows of Helen.  Impossible Beauty.

You keenly reflect back to me the light that I don't know that's showing.  In your eyes I feel the words and sighs that reflect mine.

You're a mirror of what is best and brightest of me.  And where you see the dark linings you politely don't say so.  But I see you rub them between your fingertips as if to dispel and disintegrate them till the shadows climb into the transforming sun.

I see Everest's in your eyes.  I see charted maps and your hands instinctually charting out maps of terrain known yet to no man.  

When I am lucky I will walk with you those paths that seem to appear beneath our feet.

Looking at your face ~ your eyes, I have to stand back a little.  Because I forget to breathe in the want of diving.  I hear Siren song and listened to, my feet transform to Sapphic mermaid reply.

And the ruby ringed gut of this girl pulls away from her shore.  Mermaid flanks appear, made to arc and swim towards the reefs of your standing.  A thousand Sirens call to your shore.

I shiver.  Remembering the nights when my sleeping forms walked from out of the surf into a thousand waiting arms.  A thousand smiling faces ~ all of them yours ~ give out greetings that travel in waves down my sleeping throat and coil a warm hand round my sleepy heart.

And when I awake I feel the prints of your thousand different hands on my skin.

      One man ~ one face ~ a thousand men hum and stir within it.  I have my favourite ones.  And the ones I don't yet know walk paths that can't yet be seen, but I know I'd want to go.

      Sleep and sighs are the bridges to your eyes.  I know them even when I tell myself I do not.
I sleep-walk them often.  Through vast blue portals to your other sides.

A soft divan often there awaits me.  Covered in softer blankets and your softest smiles.  Before my feet know what they have done I am carried forth to lay my head on the lap of those thousand men I find, reclined, there.   

1931

Happy Rare Strange

My Darling ~ my only one ~

You shine more than a little love in the darkness.  

Even when the dark of the Moon sails far away from its fullness 

I feel within me the embers and glow you've traced across my soul ~

July 7th, 2012 ~ July 7th, 2013 

Thank you for this world of wonders ~ Dreams ~ Visions ~ Love and Compassion ~ Inappropriate Laughter Always and Often  ~

Thank you for the ways you've moved inside of me ~ where Science lacks the art to follow and Quantum Physicists offer only hazy guesses ~

None of your careful treading could ever have been possible without your open mind and generous heart ~

And thank you ~ for leaving open for me those doors that cannot be seen ~ 

Where we meet to whisper together the Sounds That Cannot Be Made ~

Happy Rare Strange Anniversary my Darling ~