Her Phantom Menace

July 7, 2014 (3 years ago)
Posted in Poem: English | Categories: Erotic | Tags: , , , ,

Her Phantom Menace1.

He came to her in the night—her Phantom—whispering dark promises and kissed her until she ran out of breath.

Her taste, he can never get enough of.

“The universe, I will give you…” he vowed.

“No…  Just show me the stars,” She said.

And he did just that.  She saw stars when he went down on her and flicked his tongue on her hardened numb.

She could’ve sworn she saw more than stars when his tongue fucked her hole.

She believed she saw the universe he was offering her.

And then he left her—earthbound but dreaming of stars…


And the music started playing—an unheard tune heard only by them both.

She felt his touch.  He felt her soul.

He heard her heartbeat.  She heard his words.

She was all grace and sensuality.

He was the Phantom that enticed her inner wanton goddess.

She shivered at his touch.

He gloried at the effect he has on her.

She was the dancer.  He was the beat.

She craved the dance.  He gave it to her.

But when the music stops, what happens then?


His voice was pure seduction—an invitation to sin.

He speaks of carnal desire—his naked lust for her unveiled.

Her hands took his full length and led him inside her.

And he was in her, moving that old familiar movement, she trailed her nails down his back and dug them in.

She turned her head to the side, closed her eyes and whispered, “Forgive me, for I have sinned…  But I want to do this again and again…”

It was his name that she screamed when she reached her pinnacle.

And when he left, he left with her heart that she freely offered.  But no, he didn’t know it.


He was different tonight, her Phantom.

He pinned her down with her wrists above her head.

“Open your legs.”  He commanded.

“Spread them wide.”  He added.

And his tongue did its wicked dance between her thighs.

But when her sharp, shuddered screams filled the room, he smiled.

It was the sweetest song she ever sang.


She waited for him but he didn’t come to her that night.

And she wanted her Phantom.

Her body ached for his touch.

Her heartbeat quickened.  Her hands started to wander.

She wanted to feel his breath on her ear.

His hands on her waist and the arch of her back.

His lips trailing on her skin.

And with her lips parted, she deliberately poised before the mirror and touched herself.

Fantasies flowed in her head of what her Phantom would be doing right now if he were here.


Tonight.  Tonight, she vowed she will be his wicked temptress—his very own seductive tease.

Her salacious curves are built for his pleasure.

Her skirt flowed to just above her luscious legs.

She donned her fuck-me boots.

She’s ready.  She’s aim to please.

She’s dressed to kill—kill him with pleasure.

His “Liquid Sex”—her Phantom called her.

And in her bed she showed he shall encounter the thunderous seismic range and orgasmic tremors that would threaten to move his world.


The slow tingles.

The increased breathing.

The spreading of legs.

The speeding up.

The frantic movements.

Twisting, pulling, thrusting, reaching, biting.

The screams of ecstasy.

The sighs of pleasure.

And then it all stopped.

And she knew, he will leave again.

This story has no happy ending.


She wanted to fix him like the broken man that he is.

But he won’t admit he is broken. He said it’s just the way he is.

And she believes that if he just let her, she can and she will.

But he refused just that and bluntly said, “Just have your fill.”

With her mouth open, she took all of him.

Her gaze never left his as filled her throat with cream.


“F**k me…”  She urged.  “F**k me one last time.”

She clawed her nails and scribbled passion on his bareback.

Her weakness, her feelings, her lust—he felt it all.

He smiled a sad smile.  He knew he owned her, but this had to end.

He pulled her onto his lap and hungrily bit her collarbone.

Her hands ran through his hair as he guided himself into her.

“Let’s make this one explosive ride.”

And she rode him like the rouge stallion that he is, one that cannot be tamed.

She took him over the edge.  He let her.

Moans.  Names.  Grunts.  Groans.

And when she came, she came in tears.


His scent—her Phantom—lingers so vividly against her skin.

A clear reflection of his deepest kisses.

His fingerprints, his tongue prints ar... Read More

About the Author :

Joined: April 7, 2014 (4 years old)
Writings: 48

Send PM · Female · Offline

What is a Writer?

A good writer is also a good storyteller. He/she must ensnare the minds of the readers, trap them in a mind world that would make them believe what is happening is real, make them feel every stroke, feel every kiss, feel that final blow, and feel that explosion.


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