Latest Posts by theressurectionpoems - Page 3

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!

As Often

Not every submission is brutal. As often, I simply desire your skin exposed for my caress, in admiration of the gift that is you.

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!

Worshiped

I know. And you know every flaw I own. But for this moment, you at my feet, draped in lace and gauze, I feel worshiped. Worthy.

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!

Beyond Words

The knowledge that you will,  with or without bonds is intoxicating beyond words. 

After

After. After he is gone. After the three orgasms. After more than you imagined when you whispered what you wanted, After the amazement and the fear and almost pain of too much pleasure. After the hours of holding in the wake of it all. After you come to your senses and understand just how taken you were, you gather what is left of your clothes and come back. Held. Holding. The softest beg in your voice. "What can I do to thank you?" Yes. You are the perfect lover.

Owned

My hands say it. More than my words. More than any title or name. Sure. Confident. You are owned.

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.

I Cannot Get Enough

I cannot get enough of you. Not for a lack of trying. Not for a lack of pushing you into your imagination where dreams and fantasies become, yes, real. Not for a lack of desire, which somehow only grows each time you are moved beyond what you believed possible. There are more ways to render you helplessly loved than one lifetime can hold; not that I won't try. And try again, slave to your moans and screams and the look of love in your eyes afterwards. Ah, that look. I cannot get enough.

My Greatest Fantasy

It is my greatest fantasy. The one that endures. You wanting to please me like it was the most important thing in the world.

Because to me, it is.

A Game We Play

It is a game we play, going out in a strange city.

You wearing just what I tell you, tighter with a neckline you'd never wear in our home town. Breasts lifted up like prize possessions, damn near an advertisement, one that gets the attention you deserve.

It's a game we play, surveying the room. Seeing who notices, particularly those alone for the night. Seeing who notices the small anklet gold and diamonds catching the light. Seeing who, and yes, it often shows, has grown hard as I kiss you in candlelight, hands around your shoulder, lingering in the shadow of your cleavage.

It is a game we play, often enough, imagining him, and how and where you want him, or at times, them. Imagining size or girth and the feeling of them, imagining their surprise at just how tight you are on their oversized, swollen members.

It is a game we play, until that one time, when I stand and walk, and invite him over for a drink of you.

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.

Hours

Hours. I can spend hours savoring each square inch of perfection,

made perfect not by popular standards or the right software, but made pefect because it is you.

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.

Reminder

Reminder

Every now and then I have to remind you whose mouth it is.

By now

By Now

By now you should know. Never say you are mine to do with unless you mean it.

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.

Before

The others, the ones before, the ones who have shared you, those who thought they owned you, and perhaps you too believed they did, until us, when you discovered what owned actually means and gave yourself to a slavery you only dreamed of before, liberating and eternal, no matter the distance.

And Just When You Think

And just when you think there are no more adventures... I show you otherwise.

That is our life. And always will be.

Next

Understand this, that even in the every day moments you are the object of my desire, of my imagination and need. Unsuspecting to you, even at a distance I lust, imagining what I will do with you, to you next

The Moment You Were Mine

What was done or not done. What boundaries were crossed, and where pain and pleasure merged until each was forgotten, replaced by something more than either, consumption, writhing as one caress built on the next, And then, the perfect, most memorable moment of release.

I still carry that image, your face and soul lost to my touch, mine in the moment. Mine in eternity.

Never Enough

Somewhere, someone

Told you you were too much.

While I am left thinking

There is never enough.

=============

This poem has little to do with size.

Thoughts Noir

Dreams own me as they once owned you,

Love in flux, odd and as uncertain

As the next flick of the crop

Or tender touch, one after the other

To your perfect, swollen, pink clit.

Dreams. Not imagination, but something deeper,

A recognition of what lives inside us both,

You a siren from the forties, but less dressed,

Waiting forever for the pleasure and pain

I cannot help but offer, both of us somehow,

Enslaved.

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.

I love finding my poems from my banned poetry site.

Not So Certain

Trust. One step further, then one step more, certain, but not so certain there is not a shiver at the touch of something unexpected, sharp as a knife, dangerous, and tender both.

Consent

It has always about what you offered. And how far I would take it.

That does not change, but know this, there comes a place of offering where I will take all of you to a new place that will leave us both transformed.

Suddenly Safe

And then, you suddenly realize the fantasy is about to come real. Me standing, directing the pleasure of everyone involved in a way you never believed happens. Certainly not to you. A smile on my face, half wicked, half so full of love you ache for it, feeling suddenly safe in this strange place you find yourself.

=================

Fill in your fantasy. With the right person, they can happen. But for Gods sake, make sure it is the right person who will both push you and protect you, and love you even more after it is done.

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.

Releasing the Collar

The hardest thing is to let go, release the collar after an age of your gift of submission, to see you, dressed for a world that can never own you as I do.

But, I smile as you rub the marks of collar and crop. The memories will hold me until you need what only I can give, and take what only you have.

=========

So many people believe submission is about forcing control. No, it is about surrendering control, and treating that surrender with all the respect it deserves.

And if you are fortunate, and have that kind of relationship, it is glorious. It is hard to go back. If you are more fortunate, you never will.

Truth and Belief

You are beautiful. The thing is that you do not have to believe it for it to be true.

It is always nice to find one of my poems from my Other Poems site so I can reclaim them here.

The Sounds of Darkness

You can sense things. Hear my footsteps, or at least you believe they are mine, believe you are safe even in the darkness.

But the longer you are in the dark, you become less sure. Others want you. You know this. And they might or might not fill you as I do. They may be too much or too little, too kind or too cruel. You have lived and loved enough to know the truth of it.

And so you wait. Hopeful. Afraid. Unsure. Until you hear my voice and feel my touch tender on your love bound skin. "I will love you. " "I will love you forever." And you know now, whatever the pain to come, you are safe. You are loved.