When And Where

Everything

The thing is, I remember everything. Every inch. Every curve. The curl of your lip. The way your nipple rises when I go for seconds. Each little skin tag and mole. The depth and deceptive tightness. The sounds you make when we move to a new speed, a new depth, and fresh helplessness. I remember what I see when you cross the room. I remember how you feel as I lay on you. I remember everything Clothes and time and distance do nothing to blur what I know. You think we are apart now and again. But we are not. Because I remember everything.

At Our Best

Every time I see you anew, I am unsure. A tender kiss? A ravaging? Domination or a focus on your beautiful pleasure? At our best, it's all four.

By the Time I am Sated

Ah, the time I will take with you. Your arms tied high. Your legs spread. Dressed in nothing but heels and a collar. Teetering. Exposed. Unsure where you are, only that for the next few hours, every square inch of your body will be touched. At times softly. At times roughly. Your body mine, and by the time I am sated, your soul as well.

Love and Surrender

Look at you. All you want. So much more than you imagined possible when you, tentatively and soft admitted you might like.. a little submission. Maybe. Just a bit.

But that is not how it works. You know that now As you surrender a bit, and a bit more still. Baby steps down the rabbit hole to your nature, happiest now

in a place you never imagined, with marks on your skin and marks on your soul and a need to give, and surrender, and belong to me, in ways you never thought possible.

And yet, are, and even more than are, leaving you hungry to fall deeper still, becoming a creature of love and surrender, full of need to become perfect, to know you are enough.

You always were, But now, you know.

Sometimes Submissive

Sometimes submissive has nothing to do with ropes and chains. There are no harsh commands or red marks left by hands and crops or chains. It is simply staying still as I take you in. Look at you, a woman no one would suspect contains such passion. Savoring each curve and your perfect skin. Knowing all that others cannot see, all that would amaze and scare and thrill them about you

is mine

Not Just Lust

You wipe the last drop of another man's cum, the fourth tonight, your lips uncertain, knowing I have watched each one take their pleasure with you, knowing I have seen your own pleasure with perfect strangers. Your eyes too, uncertain whether I will still want you, whether I feel the same as I felt a few hours ago, just as in love, just as passionate, the kind of passion we have always had, built on more than lust for your body, built on knowledge of who you are, needs, flaws, and glorious imperfections and even this, the dream finally fulfilled as I watch. You look up, waiting, and then, seeing.

No, my love. Nothing has changed as I wrap my fingers in your head and guide your puffy tender lips to my swollen shaft, eager to feel what they did not. Not just lust, love.

Weakness

I have a weakness for you surrendered

A Particular Love

I have a particular love

Of desecrating the innocent,

Particularly

Those who do not think they are.

Too Much

Mostly when I think of romance it is in black and white, reminiscent of old movies, mixing the repartee and passion in equal amounts in a palette of history and promise.

But you are too much to hold to light and dark. White, shades of pink, eyes rich in color, nipples a shade of their own, lips always the color of orgasm

and even more so when you do.

Another of my poems from my banished blog. I love finding these!

Timeless Night

A little laughter. A little conversation. A bit of flirting. The gentlest of foreplay. Time. Or perhaps timelessness. Paying no attention to it, only each other, with an intensity that is gradual, like crabs in a pot, the heat rising slowly, the dance growing, more and more frantic, the heat suddenly all, passion, and more, life turned to a desperation for each other, for penetration, need, until finally, the little death in a cry and overwhelming. Gasps for breath. until it begins again. A little laughter in our timeless night.