The writings of Hunter Coch

hedonism

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The Invocation

Riding midnight tides

In the red lights of the night

Observing dark rights,

Under the midnight crescent

She dances with the witches,

To blood pumping beats

And the rhythm of sweet dreams,

Invoking spirits

Invite intoxication,

To raise the goddess of lust,

Riding midnight tides

With the dark dance of desire,

Invoking gnosis,

What does the summoning call?

Her deep desires fulfilled.

-Hunter Coch

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Whose Hand

”Whose hand?” in the dark,

”Whose hand?” with a simple touch,

”Whose hand?” gives pleasure.

Whose hand explores in the night?

Mystery brings excitement.

-Hunter Coch


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Stranger Love

She moaned in the ear

Of a beloved stranger,

Bodies pressed in lust.

Goddess in the dark,

She raged at penetration,

Uncontrollably.

And in the heat of

An early morning affair

The white light ignites.

She is goddess between sheets.

She is desires monarch.

-Hunter Coch


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The Woman

The woman, she moves;

Dancing to oblivion

Into the lost nights.

The dance is enlightenment,

Unintentional gnosis.

The woman, she moves;

A ritual dance between

Darkness, light, and life,

Ritual and death, motion,

Inebriated gnosis.

The woman, she moves;

Primal movement, a dark trance,

Writhing ecstasy.

Movement into living death.

Dancing into the gnosis.

The woman, she moves; rapture.

The woman, she moves . . . Gnosis.


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Intimacy

To the sleepless nights,
Unrepentant secret sins,
And the joys of flesh.

I sing to the ancient stars
Of intimacies virtues.

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Intimacy

To the sleepless nights,
Unrepentant secret sins,
And the joys of flesh.

I sing to the ancient stars
Of intimacies virtues.

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Between two women,

A soft breast in each hand,

Nipples erect,

Gently played.

Three hearts beating

Three bodies playing

Three souls touching.


Warm Bodies

Warm bodies collide

In the summer heat.

Sweat beads along natural curves.

Rolling motions on linen sheets,

Heavy breathing

Flesh on fire.

Deep moans with deep thrusts,

Inhibitions forgotten,

Tossed aside with the clothes

And heavy blankets.

A rhythmic dance everyone knows.

Concluding with an exchange

Of breath and fluids.


Touch

A gentle touch brings
A budding flower to bloom.
A finger’s soft glide,
She moans in the morning haze.

Her soul fills with ecstasy.


A Game

 

A dim light shines through,

Illuminating her curves

On burgundy sheets.

 

Nude upon the Egyptian cotton, her breasts exposed. The air moves gently across her nipples and along her dew dropped curves. She shivers at the sensation. She knows she’s watching.

 

Life, you twisted thing,

New adventures in the night,

Under watchful eyes.

 

She stands by the bed watching her nakedness in motion. Her hand move across the body’s contours, stopping at the mounds of flesh topped by light brown nipples, circling, playing with the silken skin, then moving down to the deep places where she blooms in damp delight.

 

On a bed she’s watched,

Woman looking on woman,

Game of desire.

 

She’s watching her perform. She stands, she quivers. Her eyes follow her hands. Her hands follow her eyes. The watcher is being watched and in time her hands move down to bring herself in tune with the laying beauty.

 

She stands by the bed,

Nude in the soft yellow light.

Above watchful eyes.

 

They gaze. They touch without touching. They love. They make love through thought and inaction. When their minds meet, a climax of infinite lust erupts into a fluidic waking dream. Infinite desire, infinite lust. Beautiful tension.

 

And then, with a kiss

Begins a bodies bonding.

And then, with a touch . . .