Part I of four or more
Foreplay
First look with admiration – uh,
that was before – now?
no, evaluation of possibilities.
You disrobed all raiment
intrusive to naked "I" of you.
Gee, what changed since first look:
voracious appetite for the new –
different size of everything:
how fingers know the different span
softer touch – firmer?
more protrusive nipples?
lips will know the difference –
harder, narrow base –
more so the reaction to gentle sucking
curled tongue squeezed between lips clamped
around that pyramid of neurons
making mirror more of you
like yesterday's deja vu.
But, you beckoned to the shower first
hot water, steam blasting open pores
slammed shut with sudden cold
soap sudsing all itself tango tantalizing
down the drain with what is truly
odoriferous essence of you.
Towel less, you spread
your eagle self across the bed
wings extended.
I nestle in that arm and body crease
inhaling scent of body wash
deep gasps of pungency release
my inhibitions in the nest of your embrace.
My self I place not face to face
but lie beside you – patient, playful
nibbling neck with passion bites
break not the skin nor
deep purple color leave beneath
as if a brute had beaten brutally
your precious self.
The sensitive spots like minefields sown
await the feather touch exciting
muscles strained, like minefields blown
legs twitching begging gap between
be filled with drive shaft turning
itself engorged to all your yearning
to be satisfied..
But, I don't – yet
till you burning get
flushed, gushed, wet.
Now, we can begin
the main scene of
The Play
You turned
as if burned
opened mouth
gasping
lips grasping
like hands
for a tourniquet
Mine plunged to yours
locking suction
vacuum sealed
CPR effect
tongues dancing
salivary tango
sucking both our breaths away.
The overture bled into Act One
led to moto perpetuo
ceaseless rhythm
neurons screaming
relief
coming
slowly
fingers slowly probing
spreading outer
inner lips apart at once
clitoral tongue tip
lapping
musical vibrato
dancing tips
of fingers on the strings
feeling every rising note
violin playing
concerto of love
vulva chamber
orchestra
you all my instruments
I sole conductor
baton
still in your willing hand.
Ripetivo di nuovo
Poetry by NotaDeadPoet
Read 928 times
Written on 2007-01-05 at 05:19
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The Process Part 1
Foreplay
First look with admiration – uh,
that was before – now?
no, evaluation of possibilities.
You disrobed all raiment
intrusive to naked "I" of you.
Gee, what changed since first look:
voracious appetite for the new –
different size of everything:
how fingers know the different span
softer touch – firmer?
more protrusive nipples?
lips will know the difference –
harder, narrow base –
more so the reaction to gentle sucking
curled tongue squeezed between lips clamped
around that pyramid of neurons
making mirror more of you
like yesterday's deja vu.
But, you beckoned to the shower first
hot water, steam blasting open pores
slammed shut with sudden cold
soap sudsing all itself tango tantalizing
down the drain with what is truly
odoriferous essence of you.
Towel less, you spread
your eagle self across the bed
wings extended.
I nestle in that arm and body crease
inhaling scent of body wash
deep gasps of pungency release
my inhibitions in the nest of your embrace.
My self I place not face to face
but lie beside you – patient, playful
nibbling neck with passion bites
break not the skin nor
deep purple color leave beneath
as if a brute had beaten brutally
your precious self.
The sensitive spots like minefields sown
await the feather touch exciting
muscles strained, like minefields blown
legs twitching begging gap between
be filled with drive shaft turning
itself engorged to all your yearning
to be satisfied..
But, I don't – yet
till you burning get
flushed, gushed, wet.
Now, we can begin
the main scene of
The Play
You turned
as if burned
opened mouth
gasping
lips grasping
like hands
for a tourniquet
Mine plunged to yours
locking suction
vacuum sealed
CPR effect
tongues dancing
salivary tango
sucking both our breaths away.
The overture bled into Act One
led to moto perpetuo
ceaseless rhythm
neurons screaming
relief
coming
slowly
fingers slowly probing
spreading outer
inner lips apart at once
clitoral tongue tip
lapping
musical vibrato
dancing tips
of fingers on the strings
feeling every rising note
violin playing
concerto of love
vulva chamber
orchestra
you all my instruments
I sole conductor
baton
still in your willing hand.
Ripetivo di nuovo
Poetry by NotaDeadPoet
Read 928 times
Written on 2007-01-05 at 05:19
Save as a bookmark (requires login) Write a comment (requires login) Send as email (requires login) Print text
