Moochie’s Mementos (and a pic or two)

Close to Me The Cure

I've waited hours for this
I've made myself so sick
I wish I'd stayed
Asleep today
I never thought this day would end
I never thought tonight could ever be
This close to me

Just try to see in the dark
Just try to make it work
To feel the fear
Before you're here
I make the shapes come much too close
I pull my eyes out
Hold my breath and wait
Until I sha-ha-ha-hake

But if I had your faith
Then I could make it safe and clean
Oh if only I was sure
That my head on the door was a dre-ea-eam

I've waited hours for this
I've made myself so sick
I wish I'd stayed
Asleep today
I never thought this day would end
I never thought tonight could ever be
This close to me

But if I had your face
Then I could make it safe and clean
Oh if only I was sure
That my head on the door was a dre-ea-eam
Such a soft and beautiful smile, on such a stunning woman. A perfectly artsy and sexy photo alongside the lyrics to an amazing song. Wonderful Moochie, always wonderful. 😍
 
Close to Me The Cure

I've waited hours for this
I've made myself so sick
I wish I'd stayed
Asleep today
I never thought this day would end
I never thought tonight could ever be
This close to me

Just try to see in the dark
Just try to make it work
To feel the fear
Before you're here
I make the shapes come much too close
I pull my eyes out
Hold my breath and wait
Until I sha-ha-ha-hake

But if I had your faith
Then I could make it safe and clean
Oh if only I was sure
That my head on the door was a dre-ea-eam

I've waited hours for this
I've made myself so sick
I wish I'd stayed
Asleep today
I never thought this day would end
I never thought tonight could ever be
This close to me

But if I had your face
Then I could make it safe and clean
Oh if only I was sure
That my head on the door was a dre-ea-eam
Thank you, this was a real pick up today
 
Crave

I am here, waiting—
open, raw,
carved hollow by the need of you.

my body hums,
an ache so deep it blooms—
a fire that whispers your name
with every breath I take.

I want your hands,
strong, sure,
to take what they will,
to mold me into the shape of your desire.

scoop me up,
hold me down,
make me yours
in the way only you can.

I am a wish in your palm,
a plea on my knees,
offering everything
just to feel the weight of you,
the claiming, the taking,
the release.

I need your touch—
your heat, your hunger,
your power,
until there is no me
without you.
 
Crave

I am here, waiting—
open, raw,
carved hollow by the need of you.

my body hums,
an ache so deep it blooms—
a fire that whispers your name
with every breath I take.

I want your hands,
strong, sure,
to take what they will,
to mold me into the shape of your desire.

scoop me up,
hold me down,
make me yours
in the way only you can.

I am a wish in your palm,
a plea on my knees,
offering everything
just to feel the weight of you,
the claiming, the taking,
the release.

I need your touch—
your heat, your hunger,
your power,
until there is no me
without you.
That piercing looks like it would be a very fun shape for a tongue to play with
 
Crave

I am here, waiting—
open, raw,
carved hollow by the need of you.

my body hums,
an ache so deep it blooms—
a fire that whispers your name
with every breath I take.

I want your hands,
strong, sure,
to take what they will,
to mold me into the shape of your desire.

scoop me up,
hold me down,
make me yours
in the way only you can.

I am a wish in your palm,
a plea on my knees,
offering everything
just to feel the weight of you,
the claiming, the taking,
the release.

I need your touch—
your heat, your hunger,
your power,
until there is no me
without you.
Such lovely imagery with hands. The need you describe inspires thoughts of how hands might better explore, indulge, and manipulate.
 
That piercing looks like it would be a very fun shape for a tongue to play with

They’re my little daggers again - a shape I’m not ashamed to say is one of my favourites. Yours is but a singular reason… 🌷😉

Such lovely imagery with hands. The need you describe inspires thoughts of how hands might better explore, indulge, and manipulate.

How I feel about hands is no secret sometimes they just scream for adoration. 🌷
 
Consumed

I lose myself in you—
the taste of your skin,
salt and heat,
lingering like a secret
I’m desperate to keep.

Your scent lingers,
spiced and heady,
wrapping around me
like a spell I cannot break,
nor want to.

The sound of your breath—
low, uneven,
a symphony of need
that pulls me deeper,
a rhythm I can’t escape.

Your touch,
god, your touch—
a map I follow blindly,
fingers tracing lines of fire
across my skin,
turning me liquid, yours.

Even your eyes—
darkened, knowing,
pulling me under,
daring me to bare everything
until I am nothing but sensation.

In your hands, I dissolve—
taste, scent, sound,
sight, touch,
all of me given,
all of you taken.
 
Consumed

I lose myself in you—
the taste of your skin,
salt and heat,
lingering like a secret
I’m desperate to keep.

Your scent lingers,
spiced and heady,
wrapping around me
like a spell I cannot break,
nor want to.

The sound of your breath—
low, uneven,
a symphony of need
that pulls me deeper,
a rhythm I can’t escape.

Your touch,
god, your touch—
a map I follow blindly,
fingers tracing lines of fire
across my skin,
turning me liquid, yours.

Even your eyes—
darkened, knowing,
pulling me under,
daring me to bare everything
until I am nothing but sensation.

In your hands, I dissolve—
taste, scent, sound,
sight, touch,
all of me given,
all of you taken.
Damn still you never fail to deliver.
 
Consumed

I lose myself in you—
the taste of your skin,
salt and heat,
lingering like a secret
I’m desperate to keep.

Your scent lingers,
spiced and heady,
wrapping around me
like a spell I cannot break,
nor want to.

The sound of your breath—
low, uneven,
a symphony of need
that pulls me deeper,
a rhythm I can’t escape.

Your touch,
god, your touch—
a map I follow blindly,
fingers tracing lines of fire
across my skin,
turning me liquid, yours.

Even your eyes—
darkened, knowing,
pulling me under,
daring me to bare everything
until I am nothing but sensation.

In your hands, I dissolve—
taste, scent, sound,
sight, touch,
all of me given,
all of you taken.
Another dual masterpiece, @Moochienanu 💐💐💐💐
 
Devotion

I am raw with wanting—
a body unraveled,
all nerve and pulse,
waiting for your hands to claim me.

each second stretches, unbearable,
the hollow ache of where you are not
tearing through me like a quiet storm.

I imagine your grip—
firm, unyielding,
the way you’d mold me
to your will,
to your hunger,
to your need.

I would let you—
no, beg you—
to take me whole,
to pull me apart
and leave only the pieces
you choose to keep.

my skin hums your name
and I am ready...
yours to hold,
to break,
to make real.
 

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Devotion

I am raw with wanting—
a body unraveled,
all nerve and pulse,
waiting for your hands to claim me.

each second stretches, unbearable,
the hollow ache of where you are not
tearing through me like a quiet storm.

I imagine your grip—
firm, unyielding,
the way you’d mold me
to your will,
to your hunger,
to your need.

I would let you—
no, beg you—
to take me whole,
to pull me apart
and leave only the pieces
you choose to keep.

my skin hums your name
and I am ready...
yours to hold,
to break,
to make real.
Such seductive words and a lovely image. They offer some soothing comfort in the need and desire expressed. Thank you for sharing.
 
Devotion

I am raw with wanting—
a body unraveled,
all nerve and pulse,
waiting for your hands to claim me.

each second stretches, unbearable,
the hollow ache of where you are not
tearing through me like a quiet storm.

I imagine your grip—
firm, unyielding,
the way you’d mold me
to your will,
to your hunger,
to your need.

I would let you—
no, beg you—
to take me whole,
to pull me apart
and leave only the pieces
you choose to keep.

my skin hums your name
and I am ready...
yours to hold,
to break,
to make real.
At this point Moochie you must have enough poetry to fill a small book that you could easily title YOU.

Evocative words but the title feels a little off to me. The words sound like someone consumed with need rather than devoted to another person.

Regardless of artistic interpretation, another excellent example of M Art in all its various forms.

Cheers
 
Behind the Door

The latch clicks,
a quiet surrender—
the world left on the other side,
forgotten, for now.

Your hands find me first,
pulling me into the hush of this room,
where the air is thick with something unspoken,
something I don’t need words for.

Your lips taste like the night,
like the promise of staying lost,
and I melt—
spilling into you,
soft, yielding,
as if I was always meant
to fit into the space between your arms.

The world still hums beyond the walls,
but here, pressed against you,
time is nothing but a suggestion,
and I have no desire to listen.

*Happy Valentine’s Day - this one full of daydreams* 💕💜💕
 
Behind the Door

The latch clicks,
a quiet surrender—
the world left on the other side,
forgotten, for now.

Your hands find me first,
pulling me into the hush of this room,
where the air is thick with something unspoken,
something I don’t need words for.

Your lips taste like the night,
like the promise of staying lost,
and I melt—
spilling into you,
soft, yielding,
as if I was always meant
to fit into the space between your arms.

The world still hums beyond the walls,
but here, pressed against you,
time is nothing but a suggestion,
and I have no desire to listen.

*Happy Valentine’s Day - this one full of daydreams* 💕💜💕
Such lovely daydreams as well. I hope you are having a wonderful day.
 
Behind the Door

The latch clicks,
a quiet surrender—
the world left on the other side,
forgotten, for now.

Your hands find me first,
pulling me into the hush of this room,
where the air is thick with something unspoken,
something I don’t need words for.

Your lips taste like the night,
like the promise of staying lost,
and I melt—
spilling into you,
soft, yielding,
as if I was always meant
to fit into the space between your arms.

The world still hums beyond the walls,
but here, pressed against you,
time is nothing but a suggestion,
and I have no desire to listen.

*Happy Valentine’s Day - this one full of daydreams* 💕💜💕
Happy valentine's day to an incredibly sexy lady!
 
Haven't stopped by for a while. I see and read that Moochie is still herself and one that I would happily just take in my arms and do my best to make her feel happy & satisfied.
 
Behind the Door

The latch clicks,
a quiet surrender—
the world left on the other side,
forgotten, for now.

Your hands find me first,
pulling me into the hush of this room,
where the air is thick with something unspoken,
something I don’t need words for.

Your lips taste like the night,
like the promise of staying lost,
and I melt—
spilling into you,
soft, yielding,
as if I was always meant
to fit into the space between your arms.

The world still hums beyond the walls,
but here, pressed against you,
time is nothing but a suggestion,
and I have no desire to listen.

*Happy Valentine’s Day - this one full of daydreams* 💕💜💕
Hi Moochie, hope you had a great Valentines Day and took sometime and treated yourself ...
 
Behind the Door

The latch clicks,
a quiet surrender—
the world left on the other side,
forgotten, for now.

Your hands find me first,
pulling me into the hush of this room,
where the air is thick with something unspoken,
something I don’t need words for.

Your lips taste like the night,
like the promise of staying lost,
and I melt—
spilling into you,
soft, yielding,
as if I was always meant
to fit into the space between your arms.

The world still hums beyond the walls,
but here, pressed against you,
time is nothing but a suggestion,
and I have no desire to listen.

*Happy Valentine’s Day - this one full of daydreams* 💕💜💕
Amazing words, paired oh so nicely with a fantastic picture. Hope you're Valentine's Day was lovely and that you're well, Moochie!
 
She sinks down slow,
a quiet surrender,
palms pressed to his thighs,
eyes lifted—waiting,
needing.

His breath shudders,
fingers curling into her hair,
not guiding—
just holding,
just watching.

She knows what he sees—
the way her lips part,
the way she opens for him,
the way she was made
for this.

Her tongue traces,
soft, slow, teasing,
drawing a groan from his chest,
a tremor through his body—
a prayer answered.

She drinks him in,
his taste, his heat,
her own thighs pressing together
as she gives herself to this,
to him,
to the hunger that keeps her here.

His grip tightens,
hips tensing—
a silent command,
a whispered plea,
and she obeys,
mouth taking,
body yielding,
lost in the pleasure
of being on her knees
for Him.
 
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