Introduction

I am only interested in women, for those who know how to write, to love, fuck and fight with passion and need. So no men.

In terms of wants, sex-fights and catfights are my primary interest, but if you touch me properly I will melt into you and whisper sonnets between your thighs and moan as your fingers and tongue unravel me.

My First Book is now out.....sorry poetry, The Book of Her. I am officially an author on Amazon - Anna Ranald.

Private Conversations

We had spoken before,

harsh words and shuddering surrenders,

but some things never resolve.

They turn to a slow-burning obsession,

an itch you can never quite scratch.

When I saw you across the gym,

I knew the silence between us would not remain.

We had left so many unspoken words behind,

each of us hovering at the edge of a sentence,

waiting for the right time to speak.

I knew time would call us back 
to the dance floor,

but I was content to let the embers build—

fed by the looks,
the passing glances,

the heavy stares that carried

everything words were too small to hold.

I find my thoughts turning to the tango:

sharp steps,

breath hard,

our bodies speaking

what our words never could.

I know

we will dance the only way we know how:

with fire in our hearts,

speaking our truths

in the space between the pulse of our steps

and the sharp inhale of shuddering breaths,

until one of us

lies shattered on the floor—

and the other walks away.

The Defiant Shatter

We are unravelling now,

thighs slick with a shared, fragrant scent,

moaning directly into the heat of each other’s mouths.

It is a war of attrition—

desperate not to break,

desperate to claim the victory,

no longer certain who will prevail

in this equal, exhausting passion.

The sweet ache trembles through my thighs.

The pleasure sweeps over us like a living entity,

a thing born with its own driving will.

Faster, harder, deeper—

a relentless push to make you shatter,

to taste the triumph on my lips

before the final, sudden fault line cracks.

Then it arrives:

the breathless, involuntary swear,

like a herald of doom,

unwanted and refusing compromise.

But even as the wave breaks, I claim the final ground.

I take your hair in both hands,

prising your hungry mouth from mine

to force your gaze to mine,

your eyes locked in place.

I am defiant even as I shatter,

in pieces,
undone by your greater need.

The Sisterhood of Need

An ocean lies between our separate lives,

yet here, in the quiet of darkened rooms,

we share a singular, unyielding pact:

the sisterhood of need.

Other than the desire that binds us,

we have so little in common,

and yet we are bound closer than friends.

We are accomplices in the dark,

each playing a precise, deliberate part

to ensure we deliciously unravel.

The distance dissolves into zeros and ones,

pulses of data carrying our sweet poison across the sea.

And as the text hits the screen,

the words begin their echo inside the mind—

a phantom voice so loud and near

that we taste each other’s lips in the quiet,

crying out in the beautiful collision of joy and pain.

The world outside moves in its own slow time,

but here, what passes between us is real.

Two women,
murmuring their profanities as fingers dip,

coming undone for the other

across our shared line.

And afterwards, with sweet content,
I send kisses down the line,
hugging you in binary code,
as we exchange the gifts of sated need.

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Start of membership: 2025-06-07