dominantKhan

At the grave of love, erratically I think of those days, when there was a flower inside my chest and an orchard in mind. Love, once, I so naively alleged is what this world is fashioned for. It was like a storm bursting upon life from the sky, uprooting it, overwhelming the will and sweeping the heart into the abyss. A fire that burnt and sparkled in me naturally, as in charcoals.
Alas…!
Cruelty of world but has divulged, love is merely a ‘verb’, in the nudes. Life, so discreetly has robbed all. Buoyancy of dreams, sanguinity of a smile, and dignity of virtues. All are now ethereal, as remembered mirth. Heart now is like fire in a close vessel, ready to burst for want of vent. Orchard of mind is a desolated place, a Specter where has haunted me. The specter of lust. Yes, dark & elemental lust of flesh.
So be it… if I cannot inspire love, I will cause longing...! Let’s cheers to lust…!
Thus, I’m here with you in the lustful world of erotica. A dark brave world of us animals, beyond pretentious wicked love. We speak here, a universal language of moans and grunts. We think here, with boiling sacks and blazing chambers. Dominance here is a virtue to rule, but wimps also thrives in servitude, as pets and cucks. In the erotic Lust-land, tycoons lure virginity and thugs are to pickpocket chastity. What a murky carnal place it is, where men of house so zealously keeps a roof, under which their wives shudder in fever of ‘the Man’. Where ‘Daddy’ gives best climax and deviant sugar baby crawls away from the wet footstep of prudish mums.
To my haunted mind, I write here salacious tales of ladies, moaning amid their sobs. Thrilling legends of perverts, clogging feeble cries with meaty batons. Spicy accounts of virgin innocence, succumbing to high-end temptations. Stories of whores seeking a solace among sadists. Anecdotes of long legs riding on top at the corporate ladder. Lewd narratives of arrogant chicks 'put-in-place', by street gangsters.
In my stories love is for fools. Women are like coffee cups – tempting, crispy and disposable. They come for the glamour and leave with a story. Don’t take me wrong please, I’m not a nihilist, per se. I still write romantic stories. A hardworking Romeo with a trophy wife, one executive home, multiple sports cars and model girls on a carousel, and yes a Black driver for the sweetheart. Hell of romance, yeah!
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Thanks for reading. I used to role play but now retired, still I like connecting with people here. So, if you’ve any such experiences or fantasy, where love is defeated by lust, please do write me and I may come up with a spicy tale.

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