A Game We Play

Never Enough

Somewhere, someone

Told you you were too much.

While I am left thinking

There is never enough.

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This poem has little to do with size.

A Change in Mood

A Change in Mood

It seems so intimate. So gentle on a Monday morning. Both of us knowing there is a long day ahead. A morning as gentle as the dawn sun until I tell you just what will be happening tonight. What to wear. What not to wear. and just how much of you will be ravaged by how many.

Time Well Spent

We took the time. So much of it when we could have been doing.

But instead, we chose intimacy first. Time. Spent. Wisely. Learning

Just how much, and how far. How many and how much you believed you could.

What excites you. What scares you and yet still calls, now that you know fantasies happen.

And now, that time behind you, I know just how far to take you, and a bit beyond.

The Best of Lessons

It is the best of lessons, the more fucked out I leave you, the more the surrender. the more desperate the need to please. And what man could want more than that perfect desperation from his perfect woman?

M or F?

Male. The poems are about me and my love.

Tonight I may want you romantic and soft, gentle and yielding, your beauty gently on display, or I may want you trashy and eye-catching in a way that makes the world around us gasp and turn their heads, or I may want you bound, knowing the ravaging is to be brutal and you left with no relief, knowing there will be marks, and the most amazing thing, the wonder of you, is that whatever I want, you give.

I love it when I find a poem from my deleted blog that I can repost to my new on. In this case the poem found me. A Reader from London refound me and shared two. Thank you!

Just As...

And just as you think you have found every possible way to submit... I prove you wrong.

I love when one of my poems from my deleted blog finds me!

Touch

There is nothing of yours that touches anything of mine that does not excite. 

An Audience of One

It has been an elegant pleasure, you half exposed over dinner and an audience. '

But now we are alone. And I am an audience of one. And the elegance is about to end,

and the raw truth of desire is exposed with each small hook undone.

Stand Still

Lift up your hair and let me kiss you gently on the soft nape of your neck. 

Stand still as my arms wrap around you,  as my hands slide under your silken blouse to feel the fullness of your breasts. 

Surrender yourself.  Feel my cock swell in the hollow of your ass.  Know my hunger, and await it. 

Know that soon, I will enter you,  penetrate your body and your heart with my desire. 

Stand still. 

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Tumblr killed my former site, The Other Poems, after eight years of poetry and over 12,000 readers and friends. If you like this poem, please consider reposting it so I can find my friends and followers again. Thank you.