Deeper

Still finding some of my old poems from my Tumblr delete sight. Thanks to all of you who reposted so many of them.

Helpless in Lace

There is no reason to rush.  We have the night.  We have tomorrow and I have you,  helpless in lace. 

I fondle the knife in my pocket.  Small and sharp,  I will take my time touching you,  slowly slicing the soft fabric and letting it fall,  enjoying your exposure,  bit,  by bit until it falls in a black puddle at your feet. 

I will touch you, at first as tender as a whisper,  but only at first. 

As my passion rises, I will shed my gentility like a snakeskin and take you like the animal I am inside.  I will make you cry out in pleasure and pain,  and kiss the tears of helplessness as they trace down your cheeks. 

I will force you to your knees violating your tender lips until I am sated,  and then release you to my arms can carry you to bed,  my lover,  my dearest,  my slave. 

Again

From across the room, I watch. I have seen you naked. I have seen you with walls. I have seen you unbridled, surrendered, wild. I have heard you cry out and heard you cry. Seen you bound and seen you free. And in all I have seen, I have loved you. And will love you still when I see you naked, no matter its form, again.

After

After.

After. After it all. After the rough filling. The bruising of your softest tissues. The marks. The taking of more than your body. After one more orgasm than you believed possible. After you are left breathless and limp. Spent. After all that, still... the tiniest of smiles.

The Culmination of Assurance

It is the after. After the surrender. The taking. The sweet ravaging with all its pain and desire. After the orgasm. and the next orgasm and the last, forced orgasm, and we are both spent, and we fall together in silken tenderness, so sure of our love we could weep, this, the after, the culmination of assurance.

The Simple Truth

The simple truth is that you are beautiful. Always have been. Always will be. Perhaps none have seen it, too busy with their egos and fears, but that does not change what you are, only how you see yourself.

So let me capture you, with cameras and words, with the soft touch of a lover and the confidence of a man who knows the truth.

The simple truth. You are beautiful.

What Only I Hear

Cry out. Shout. Gasp. Writhe.

Here you are mine and no one will hear your fear, your surprise or your surrender. You are mine. Now and forever.

No Idea

I am not sure yet, that you understand just how long I will want you, love you. How many dreams I have of you. How rough, and how tender I want to be with you. How many fantasies, yours and mine both, are left to fulfill. How many times I want to watch you dress and undress. See you naked. See you from across the room and feel my pulse rise. You can not know how many orgasms, all in a day, I plan for you. How many men. Toys. Places. Some of them public. How many nights spent entwined with you I still crave. No matter how long is left for us, I will always want more. You have no idea.

The Expression

There it is.

The expression

I have come to know.

You on the precipice

Between the familiar

And surrendering to letting it happen,

That one thing, once imagined,

Once fantasy, now upon you,

Your last chance to use the word

And be safe, or give yourself

To more that you believed you would ever

Actually

Do.

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I remember the first time I saw that expression on your face. And the second. And… Trust and desire as we moved from fantasy to reality.

The photograph is from a reader, used with permission. @capemayartist-blog

It's Always the Smile

in the end, it is always her smile. Not to disparage the rest of her, every line and curve and sway. The curls. The glint in her eye. But in the end, it is always the smile. Captivating. Always true. Sexier than a smile should be, you feel like a king, when she submits with that smile, and her subject when she devoirs you.

M or F?

Male. The poems are about me and my love.