Wednesday, September 17, 2014

New Poetry Images

Today, I am working hard at completing a book compilation of my poetry with the images as I have posted on my Twitter page.  Most of these were written to poetry prompts. And they are all under my copyright.  I hope you enjoy them.  Soon my book of poetry, Echoes of the Soul, will be out and available for purchase.

In the Dark of the Night

All That I Am

Once Upon a Time

Tears I Shed

Stories Told

Words of Love

Want more? Watch for the release of Echoes of the Soul!


Friday, September 5, 2014

Sir's Beads

Sir's text told her what he desired,
Her heart stopped at his words.
The thoughts of his touch and
His desire of her, her Sir
Her trust in him
Brings her to her knees.
He comes to her and bids her rise,
The scene begins with
The pull of the beads.

The pull of the beads twirled her
And threw her face down on the bed.
Sir took each single strand and wrapped her arms and wrists to each other.
Her body glistened with beads of sweat
As she waited, not seeing his intent.
She felt the pull of her legs open wide.
His hands lifting her hips, bringing her
Back to her knees, exposing her, Vulnerable to his control.
His fingers toy with her bringing her
Further to ecstacy.
One strand left that hung from her waist
Inserted into her wet pussy.
She gasped at the cold entering and
The sensation of the beads inside.
Opening her legs even wider,
He fingers her, toying with the beads
As they pressed into her clit
Moving in and out
Making her writhe with desire.
Leaving the one strand,
He makes his entry with his
Hard enlarged cock.
She hears his gasp as he feels the pressure,
Beads against cock, against clit.
The inner massage of the beads
As he moves in and out,
Thrusting harder and deeper inside.
She's filled and is on the brink of orgasmic crest,
He thrusts deep holding to the end of the strand.
He thrusts deeper,
"Cum for me now, Little One! "
She bursts into the abyss,
He pulls the strand at that perfect moment,
He thrusts deeper and cums harder with
The sensation.
She cannot move, has no voice.
She only feels his pulsating throb
As he empties himself in her.
It all started with the pull of the beads.

CWylde ⓒ 09 / 05 / 14

Monday, September 1, 2014


In the quiet of the dream
Exists the clouds of memories
Buried in the depths of the scream
Silenced in the haunting melodies
Of one who finds her solace
In emptiness of the night.
Her creation so flawless,
The dark truth sees not light.

CWylde ⓒ 08 / 31 / 14
Image by Freddy Camargo Photography

Purple Bodaciousness