If I close my eyes…

I can imagine the fantasy.

A penthouse… maybe in New York or London.

Or even Paris.


Still hot.

A bed, a tangle of satin sheets.

Legs, arms. 


Breasts, cunts.

A sensory overload of pleasure.

But I’m not there.

And she’s not here.

I’m in my filthy pigsty of a bedroom. 

The night is sultry,

the only duvet on the bed still a nuisance.

The whirr of the room fan,

makes it sound like there are spirits,

roaming in my room.

I am wearing… what is it that I’m wearing?

A negligee…

My first one. My only one. 

Still doesn’t make my body cool down though.


When living is easy?

Just a few thoughts on the sweltering heat that’s been plaguing… well, everyone I know. The lovely lady in my fantasies was Ms Blacksilk, by the way. Don’t know if she’d appreciate that… but I can’t stop my mind. x

Leave a comment


  1. I absolutely *love* to make appearances in people’s filthy thoughts and fantasies, no matter the one doing the imagining, don’t worry about that. That said, it does help when the fantasist is a rather lovely young thing with extra-lickable freckles… 😉

    Honoured to be in your thoughts, hun. x

    • *blush*

      I can’t help thinking naughty things with you involved. And I will write you something special, a few things even, if you like 🙂


  2. I do love your thoughts..and the ways you express them…Makes a fine morning read…thank you

  3. Lucky Blacksilk ! I love/loathe that heat of the night when every touch prickles and electrifies.

    LP x


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