He knew of her yen when he married her,
nurtured it through the struggling years and then
let it loose, much to her surprise that he’d
spied on her all those years ago on her knees
behind the school, worshipping what she loved,
getting what she desired and now
getting it again with his loving help, though
he had to stop accompanying her to church because
as she knelt to accept the host
all he could see was the
hosts of men who had dyed those
pale pink lips with their
opalescent white.

“Chalk Paths” by Eric Ravilous (1935)

shelikestosuckit:

There was something about visiting the stables in summer that overcame Claudette’s otherwise prim and appropriate upbringing.

A delightful image in so many ways;)

A formal garden, bleak, with

coyly nude statues and

naked urns beneath a

sealed-in sky, your

off-white dress skittering between

bare but budding trees as I

pursued you across

frost-crickled grass and

caught you, pinned you against a

plinth which swayed and

grated worryingly like my

skull against my spine as your

hot mouth clamped mine with a

kiss like the

ghost of sunshine.

hypersexualgirl:

escape

I LOVE this photo! It fires my imagination….

I let my hands rest gently on your
slender shoulders and watch the
whirligig of emotions flicker across
your retinas as you understand
where this will lead and how it will
end and you don’t so much
fall to your knees as curtsey
knowing now exactly what to do.

thestrongsubmissive:

A picture speaks a thousand words.

Smoke Signals

Reminds me of “La Belle et le Bete”