Eryona Writes! Copyright Law (c) 2024 - Present

The Seductress You’re not just a writer but a seductress with ink, You put into words what our dirty minds think. Your verses undress us with flicks of your pen, Then tease us to beg you to do it again. A whimper, a rhythm, a sultry soft moan, You tempt every craving with heat in your tone. You conjure desire in sentence and rhyme, A siren of syntax, a mistress of time. With metaphors wicked and stanzas that bite, You make lust feel sacred and shadows feel right. You don’t just write stories… you summon the flame… And we read you with hunger, as we whisper your name. Original Poetry Written By Eryn Dunbar Copyright (c) 7.19.2025

  Canva AI Image FEATHERED KISSES - WE BEGIN AGAIN Fingertips. Caressing skin. Slowly turning. Into sin. Feel your breath. Upon my neck. Feathered kisses. Lightly peck. Lift my dress. Above my head. Let it fall. To the bed. Snag my waist. Pull me close. Grab my throat. Gently choke. Sensations overtake. My mind. Pressures building. Bump and grind. Feathered kisses. Down my back. Sliding fingers. In my crack. Nuzzle, fondle. Brush and skim. You circle round. Then push it in. I'm soaring, racing. Tempo sublime. Pushing faster. Lost in time. Explosions. Overwhelm my soul. You took my body. Made it whole. Riding waves. Spasms cresting. For the wicked. There is no resting. Flip me over. Start again. Fingers brushing. My back end. And one more time. We are inching in. Two hot lovers. We begin again. Poetry Written By: Eryn Dunbar Copyright (c) Sept 9, 2024

You make me burn. I am on fire. So intense. Raging desire. Taste you. Hot. Caressing hair. I feel you touch. Me down there. Slide my dress. Slip to the floor. Need you now. Fill up my core. Push me back. Against the wall. Hand over mouth. My whimpered call. I scream in pleasure. I moan in pain. Your fingertips. Drive me insane. Feather tickles. Down my spine. Gently sipping. Drinking candy wine. You stroke. Thump. Flick me there. Sensations intense. Exploding in air. I pant. Hot breath. On my clit. Flip me over. Straddle. Make me sit. Your face. Riding the wave. Cresting. The feeling. I am your sex slave. Shallow. My breath comes out. Climaxing. Your name I shout. Overwhelmed. Finally calming down. You knocked askew. This girl and her crown. Poetry Written By: Eryn Dunbar