This is not rocket science. If you might be offended, don’t read…
Helper
She comes to me at evening, padding light,
To wake the beast within me for a while.
Her gentle touch can make my heart take flight.
The fingers trace a path across my smile,
My cheek, my eyes, my neck, then lower on
And lower still, send shivers to my brain.
I rise to meet her touch, my troubles gone
For one sweet moment. Amidst beating pain
She knows lives hard behind the plastic smile
That faces out. In darkest days the one
True salve, she wisely knows, is to beguile,
To distract, and to pleasure, till it’s done.
In fleeting moments, pain can be ignored,
But always there, one never cuts the chord.
Sweet Relief
Come to me, my precious, come hold me close;
Kiss me in ways that make my heart flutter;
Touch me in those places no one else knows
Fray my senses, make me shake and shudder
With uncontained rapture. Knowing fingers
Trace gentle lines in circles round and round
As I lay supine, your sweet touch lingers
In electric memories. Tightly wound
Inhibitions vanish, body is free
Of tension, pulse quickens, the breath grows short,
The heat rises, the brain crackles, the plea
For sweet relief is answered, you exhort
To screaming release. You watch and savor,
Knowing I will now return the favor.
Mistress
Arms tied behind my head, you sit astride,
Fingers circle my nipples, fingernails
Seem sharpened, scrape the rosebuds, scratch my hide
Till tiny droplets appear. Make me wail
With rapture, beg for more, “Please, MORE,” I scream,
And you just laugh, your eyes betray your vice.
“Before I’m done, you’ll wish it was a dream,”
You sneer, “You thought getting fucked would be nice
And safe. You didn’t know what you would get
When you walked in. You didn’t know that pain
Could be so thrilling.” I feel your cunt get wet
Against my belly. You scrape me again.
My breath grows short. I explode. Loins afire.
After, in your eyes, I see raw desire.
The Dance
We dance in the night, you in scarlet sheath,
Bodies swaying, so close I feel your heart
Beat fast and faster, your sweet, fragrant breath
Lingers warm and inviting. Then we start
A slow, passionate rhythm, to the beat
Of distant music drifting on the strand,
There for other lovers. In the fierce heat
Of a tropical night, you press your hand
Into mine, come to me insistent, we’re
Face to face, hips to hips, lips gently touch,
Whisper words that only hearts can hear.
The message clear, the urgency too much
To ignore, we fall together and give
In to the primal need for which we live.
Did it Happen?
A glance across the room,
The crowd invisible to me,
You catch me watching.
A careful approach,
Try not to be obvious,
But still…
Looking away, but not,
Brush your arm, excuse myself,
Your fragrance staggers.
Probe, laugh, probe back, laugh,
Connection made, what is next?
Interest? Interest back?
Others disappear.
No one else in the room.
Momentary heat.
Momentary? More?
Gently graze my arm this time.
Smile. Look outside. Go.
I follow, hooked. To where?
You know the way; I do not.
You lead. I follow.
A garden. Light rain.
But not to dampen spirits,
You stop, you turn, nod.
A bench. I sit.
You sit. Close.
Face to face, your breath.
Fingers touch lightly,
Lips touch. Harder.
Faces, ears, necks, tongues.
Lower, to your knees.
Knowing hands
Undo, release, then kiss,
Eyes look up, mischief.
I sit, I watch, rapt,
Unable to comprehend
How it got to this.
Damp, soft, auburn hair
Drapes me, touches my mind,
Envelopes my soul.
Soft, sweet, warm, gentle,
I disappear, reappear,
Within your garnet lips.
I see me, then not,
Faster you, faster me.
Electricity.
Low sounds, yours, mine, ours,
Breaths, heartbeats, animal-like,
Guttural, like “Ommmmm.”
Lose control. Muscles tense,
Release, again, and again,
You drink ’till I’m empty.
You stand, kiss. “Mmmmm…”
“Hello, I’m An…”
“No. No names.
Just this. Remember.
It didn’t happen.”
Another smile, you’re gone.
Only fragrance left behind.
What now? What’s left? Drops.
Glisten in the moonlight.
Raindrops. Your drops. Mine.
What to hold on to?
Warmth lingers now with these drops.
Residue of passion.
Poemagination 