It is the details that stay with you. The way I caught her lower lip between my teeth, how it felt plump and elastic, springing up to brush my upper lip upon its release. The way the head kept sliding just inside as she tried to impale herself against me; only my hand, wrapped tightly around the base, kept her from getting what she – and I – wanted; teasing myself, torturing her. The way I would play her, making her wet and wet and wet. She could never stay dry. My fingers couched just barely inside, and I would whisper, “mine” in her ear only to feel the blood rush downward, opening her and leaving her slick in a groan of frustrated need because no matter how many times I did it, it was never quite enough for her.
***
Mention my name.
swept in swift lettering, steed to a deft tempest
terrible storms.
drenched.
and left.
slick with the tide,
awash in silk-like sand
drowsy with release, unaware
that you are buried to your neck
and facing the waves alone.
secrets alone keep company, rules beg interference
and the sight of you
wet and hungry
stirs me to part the ocean.
I am the moment you break free, head above water
the first breath like mint.
the piercing cry to the heavens
the fountain
you have become.
our kisses taste like
your tears like
the ocean like
I think I remember the last time
I wept against your skin
and tasted myself
between your sighs
Beautiful, just beautiful… as always!
Thank you, Djaevle for coming and visiting my little site and reading my stuff. And, yes, poisoned fruit is very attractive to me. I just hope I eat enough and don’t overindulge. Any other taboo’s that interest you…..any source of inspiration is welcome.
That’s just a very pretty piece of writing, dear D’jaevle. Thanks.
What Is Your Name
Delicious. And heart tugging at the same time. It sounds very familiar and oh so far away.