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Wild intimacy, love and starry nights

You call it love,

for me, it’s myriad expression,

intense prayer,

piercing the heart,

flowing like fleeting stars,

every dawn,

a new story told,

witnessed by the starry night,

wild intimacy,

dragging and tearing into each other,

playing footsie,

toe licking,


mad moments,

lips swirling,

ice cream,

losing ourselves momentarily,

breaking rules,

every second count,

precious like a water drop,

till we flip the page,

and become strangers,

whipping a new story,

mosambi juice,

raw mango,


creamy sensual love,

rushing like current,

sweetness and stormy,

setting free,

chucking out the clothes,

barring the soul open,

nudity is art,

the mind wears no cloth,

be swayed,

with the wave of real.




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Intimacy and wild lie

Spinning a tapestry of dreams,

unsaid words,

if only, I could utter the three-letter words to her,

everything is a lie,

passionate kiss,

wild intimacy,

gentle caress in the dark night,

I tell her, wanna make love to your mind,

she jotted her phone number with the red lipstick,

inviting me in her room,

a lie told to  each other,

she tells me, ‘hush let me take you to the honey bliss,

lick the juice in the vineyard’

we didn’t make love to our beautiful minds,

the hardened flesh bore our savageness,

violently trudging the body lines,

only the scars and regret remain,

silent night owls witnessed treachery to our souls.






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Scent of passion

Silly peck;

Adrenaline sensation felt like bee’s sting;

Blood waltzing to heavenly passion;

Lips cupping and meeting at infinity point;

Rush of electric jolt,

bringing the bodies to halt at girth;

Heavy breathing;

Time has stopped;

Longing for the scent of passion, loveless touch, and harmless affair;

Craving for the emotional touch;

It felt like a punch straight to the heart;

Pressing caress up and down,

treading the unchartered zone where no humans reached.

Erogenous zones;

An orgasm that blew the lid off;


The climax failed to reach its zenith;

Mind holding the reins over bodily pleasures;

Emotions overpowered intimate touch;

It’s the love we make;

Mind flicking the human battery to perfection;




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Poetry package: Time, intimacy and scent of love

Hey folks,

Have a lovely Sunday. Sharing a package of three poems on Sunday and hope you will enjoy reading them.

Wheel of Time

Image source:


slow burst.


Faster than light.




Unplanned victories.



Wheel burst our bubble.

Sparkle lost.



Struggle to keep pace.

It’s the wheel dictated by time.

It revolves faster than fraying nerves.

Darkness followed by light.

Glittering sun on our faces.

The wheel shall land in front of our feet.

Havoc doesn’t last forever.

Light spread.


Spinning its might,

throwing the extraordinary, mojo and unlimited happiness,

on our lap.

It’s only the wheel.

Our identity can be crushed or trampled.

Never lose hope.

The wheel of time revolves eternally.


Intimate secret



Closely guarded inside.

It’s no sacrilege or offending the Gods!

Shall tell you one today.


Hiding behind veiled doors.




Can’t live without it!


Spilling on the surface.


Mangling one’s reputation.

I am the naughty boy.

It’s my need.

I crave for it.

We are one of a kind,

lusting for each other.

Sleepless night.

Exploring creative zone,

uncharted lines.

It’s excessive.

My caffeine.


Can it get more intimate than that!


Scent of love

Image credit: Google



Fanning petals.

Heart shaped light.

Circle of flame.


Essence of the heart.

Lovers’ Nest.



Hushed tone.

Fingers intertwined.


Lips curled.

Words lost in translation.

Hearts speaking thousand words.

Sitting in silence.

Holding hands.

Birds chirping.


Perfume of love.


Candles kindling hearts.

Naked souls.

It’s the love you make.

Hissing sound.

Shedding ego.

It’s You & ME.

Love holds no barriers.

Souls become one.

Slipping our clothes.

We pierce through our souls.

Standing naked.

We shall not enter each other.

It’s the scent of love.

A perfume of light flickering our bodies,

piercing hearts and souls.

With Love








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Imaginary love


Image credit: Google

Eyes closed.


Dreams resurfacing.

Fresh dew of fragrance.

Moist face.

Cold hand.

She strokes my lip.

Curled finger.

Blowing warm air on my face.

Gentle laughter.

She unveils her face.

Rubs her palm.

Oozing sensuality.

I long for her face.



She disappears in the flick of dust.

Breezy wind.

Flick of love.

Soothing presence.

Who is she?

Invisible force of love.

Magnet of romance.

Haunting presence.

Yet, she cannot be touched.

An angelic force.

A Light consuming darkness.

Ecstasy of love.



Power of imagination.

Sparkle of love.

Unbridled sensuality.


A tale of imaginary love.

Stormy night and passion.





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Dance of envy

Image credit: Google


Sheer passion.

Oscillating bodies.

Gravitating waist and toes.

Dance of Envy.

Love and lovers.

Tight embrace.

Intimate roll.

Eyes buried.

Lips curled.

Intimate bodies twisted to each other’s tunes.

Drinking thoughts and passion.

Seduced steps.

Hips motion.

Bedazzled movements.

Twist to love.

Romancing music.

Souls intertwined.

White curtains.

Bodies draped together.

Souls united.


Craving for love.

It’s dance.

Die together not as two entities,

but unified particles.



Consummate love with mad dance.

With Love





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A to Z Challenge: Salirophilia

The post S for Salirophilia (AC) is written as part of ‪#‎AtoZChallenge‬: Blogging from A to Z April Challenge. For those who came late, I am doing a novella on film star who lost his memory and is helped by a college girl to face his harsh reality. It’s  a grim and dark journey facing himself on how he conquer his demons to redeem himself. I promise high voltage entertainment and drama that will take your breath away. My funda: Some of the stories have no logic and leave your brains somewhere else if you wanna enjoy the stories:)

Going by the guideline of A to Z, I am putting Adult Content (AC) for today’s letter post since it’s a sensual romance.


It took me a while to recover from the burns at the hospital. Bhai Saab has been arrested and charged with children trafficking, underworld activities, and the mafia is on his heels. He made them suffer a lot financially. Meera has been charred to death. My crime is shrouded in cloud and blurred under the thick smoke of Bravery Award where the media terms me as Real Life Hero. I am honoured by every State Government , TV channels and film organisations.

It’s redemption. But, I wonder whether my conscience is clear. I was party to some crimes where young kids are dying with drugs every single day. The mafia has gone underground. But, I am sure that they will come for my skin and Bhai Saab won’t leave me in peace. Perhaps, it’s the time to run away from myself.

The joints and alcohol soothe my nerves. My eyes scan Sanjana Khan at the party where she is performing in my honor for bravery. I am already high on alcohol where I am enthralled on the new singing sensation in town who won singing competitions and crooning some of her favorite super hit songs in films.

She fixes me with intensity as we dance away during the night. Unabashedly, Sanjana hand slides inside my shirt and caressing my chest, biting my ear with her tongue. You cannot stay away from her. She has a magic, aura, and enigmatic quality. We’ve been spending nights in my apartment.

“I wanna eat you raw,” Sanjana winks.

“You are the experimental type. I like wild beasts a lot,” I am smitten by her charm.

She breaks into a cackle. “How a brave man that save children is getting knocked off his perch. Am I the culprit?

I caress her face with my fingers, intertwined in her hair. Her eyes are hiding something and I am powerless by the hot intensity exuded by her. I am carried away and besotted by her charm and sexiness. She is a myth, perhaps.

Sanjana removes her sandals and pulls off her dress, presses her legs on my chest and tears apart my white shirt.  “The dirty game starts now,” she seductively laughs. “Salirophilia.”

I am losing my balance and feel overpowered, emasculated. “Oh! Yes! Salirophilia.”

We dirty ourselves, smearing our faces and naked bodies with dry colors and sprouting mud by rubbing each other in unchartered zones. We dirty our hair with her fancy makeup and beggars would look better than us. It’s a fetish we wanna do since a long time.

We roar with passion and smack each other fighting to dip our legs in the mud basket placed in the room before getting into the act. “It’s called the Salirophilia special,” she seductively sways her hip when she pours the concocted drink into my mouth. It’s sweet as hell.

Oh! Gosh! She fakes a smile and her naked body is growing tense. “Baby!! Our Salirophilia is making me forget that I have to perform at a show in an hour”.  She pulls her red skirt in the rush and bends on the bed, tasting the corners of my lip with her tongue before disappearing.

I am in a trance with the Salirophlia Special Drink reaching the altar of my spirit. My body is dirty, smeared with colors, mud and sand. Something is scripted on the patch of dirt on my chest. It skips my mind for I am high on this drug, Sanjana.

Postscript: The word Salirophilia refers to people who have this fetish of getting dirty during sex by smearing makeup, messing hair up or ripping clothing. Instead of showering before sex…Try it at home at your own risk, my tiny warning.