23 January, 2009

Sensations


If I only could focus on other things...but I think about you all the time.
How you look me up and down, licking your lips,
Wanting you to push them onto my dripping cunt,
shiny with juice, I step tpwards you,
without anything...but a patchwork quilt wrapped loosely around my hips
worn, threadbare, but caressing every fiber of me.

I strain towards you, my nipples pouting,
my breasts growing larger under your gaze.
We are outside, and I drop the covering
hoping the wind will pick up and caress my clit,
as it grows and engorges, yearning for your teeth, your tongue.

I want to moan, but it is almost twilight,
the traffic outside a background drop, do they see me? I hope...
so my index finger dips toward my navel, traveling downward, parting just so
I lay down on the cold brick step, the sensation crowding me,
I lift my legs, over your shoulders, my scent wafting upward.

You bend down...sensations of waterfalls, pressure, dancing, weaving, and then
the suckling sounds you make, I feel the building pressure, the rush,
cumming onto you..I sigh and look up into your eyes, I am renewed...

2 comments:

the sayer said...

I love the way this poem captures that most beautiful of states, magnificent yearning anticipation of touch...

lips to lips.. we are indeed perfect beings.

mysterious said...

Sensual and highly erotic.

Brava!