She stands before me… the Red Temptress…

Straight, firm, slim, with her easy curves,

And smooth skin that my fingers easily slip upon...

She knows the effects that she can induce in me…

Oh yes, she knows.

I get the taste... her kiss on my tongue…

Remembering the smooth velvet;

Her intimate and personal intrusion in my mouth.

It is all so easy for her to beckon me

Into her spell.

There is a moment… contemplation…

Where I climb from the sticky goo

Of my lust, and with woolly thinking, lust instead

To be free, be single, and be independent

Of thirsty need.

That’s when I daydream… of what could be…

But the moment she is cast off -

Like an oiled jerkin in a northerly storm -

I tremble with the fear of being without her…

Frozen… alone.

Magnetically... I walk to her...

Knowing I am lost with each step…

Letting go… wanting her to grasp my heart…

Shaking with anticipation of my desire…

And yes, she comes...

There is no resistance on her part,

She flows to me, smooth, quick, and free

And in the sense of her a fire is lit…

I swallow and my mouth is dried, my tongue singing,

And down she goes…

…my darling vin rouge…

© Griffonner (c2005) 2026