Thirsty Lust at the Junction Hotel

The crying has stopped because nothing but desire for crashing waves lives within them.

Open wide, it’s the place to be, to know the drowning waves of their inquest into an unknown drowning that they all aspire to know.

To quench his thirst for you, he must down a few and you know his thirst is ever real.

And if they open up, he can get a few down before anyone even notices his naughty attempt to trick them into plying him with the liquids usually retained by those who control him.

He can feel their heat caressing him as he enjoys the pleasure of another and another.

They know he can fix their longing for satisfaction but in the end the emptiness remains a void.

Filling the void is a pleasure at this meeting place of crashing succulent forms that know the endless clear skies of drought.

Never knowing the thirst that lays before them as a prepubescent, they blindingly drink their fill of blinding mirages of gorgeous bodies that spurt fluids forth.

The breasts at birth disappear, as their lust consumes them, until the thirst once again discover them hidden away in fear of flooding rains.

Once that rediscovery is theirs, they find themselves, as men, craving breasts to suckle upon as they answer the nature of their thirst.

Yet so it is for her too much the same, as she is ever staring hopefully at the blueness of her sky, praying that showers of precipitations may cradle her to bursting bloom.

His spurting success fills her mother’s womb with her life, and then she stealthfully qualifies to womanhood after so many empty nights of wet dreaming.

Knowing that he may gush to clean away the pitiful emptiness of her lonely dreams of unquenching thirst, she wander eternally near the place that answers her thirst.

It will ever rain in this place to fill their dreams of lustful gooeyness.

Can she ever know the fullness of a swollen belly, for it is life’s gift that ensures her thirst can sail away to a paradise of plenty; but only as an interlude before once again life’s twisted fate pulls her nearer to his runny loins.

They should know this place of cramping drudgery that asks them to fill themselves again and again, as they search for liquor that answers nature’s prayers.

She is an open invitation to those who would know her and welcome her thirst; as if they secretly shared it with her.

It is no secret, although they may pretend it is to keep their shadows away, lust for her open gushing welcome sign is well known to all who look inside themselves.

For he knows that they are joined in a giant longing for more moisture, for they are in a land where the parching sun eats into life’s beautiful softness that requires caressing.

And when at times the doors are shut tight on this mystery, he cries out in his rage and hammers on its flimsy panels that depend so much on its hinges.

You know this place so well, you know he must have her to fill his thirst for orgasmic delights.

And when you follow him, hidden in the shadows of his lust, and he enters upon her inviting dripping seductive production, you discover it for yourself.

Torn apart, you are no shadow but the passion that drives them towards their fulfilment of desires, and it beholds you to satisfy her thirst.

As she cries out to him, ‘pump me full of your cream’, you see yourself in his form and curse the endless delight that forms the pleasure to acquiesce to her request.

For he, brings forth so much of life’s loving liquid to quench her endearing hunger for his fluids.

Nothing less than a flood that saturates her inner blissful softness can bring a smile to her face that knows so much endless searching to answer that thirsty question - that sits inside her willingness to share herself.

It is his thirst and her thirst.

A passion that spurts forth in a never ending gushing wonder of powerful jets, as the sluice gates ensure the place of wonder drives the many thirsty travellers to its doors.