His Desire (erotica)

A hot palm pressed between my knees
to wedge a distance ‘tween my thighs
a gasp of shock from racy tease
I dare not close my tell-tale eyes.

A finger traced ‘long panty line
despite the people that surround.  
Exciting worry crossed my mind
and scandal made my heartbeat pound.

His daring glace and knowing grin,
a whisper, “Don’t you make a peep.”
My pleasured proclamations spin
as shallow digits burn so deep.

How risqueé, how raw, how scandalous
this something I would never dream.
How stirring, naughty, torturous
but how I’d like to scream!

Soon I can barely keep my eyes
in focus anymore.
I struggle to contain my sighs
from oozing to the fore.
He smiles and dares bid his goodbyes
with fingers still dipped in amour!

“I can’t believe you did that here!”
I said in breathy voice.
“That’s why I am the Master dear,
I know what makes you moist.”

The naughty blaze he set afire
he placed more kindling on
and pressed me into shadows of desire
right on the neighbor’s lawn!

He let his hands tear through my blouse
And lips and teeth graze o’er my skin
And leaning bared against the house
he licked and nipped and merged within…

It felt so good a moan escaped
he pressed his hand over my lips.
“Save that for later, baby cake,”
and then he stapled me there with his hips.

The world went reeling, thunder struck
he knows where all my buttons are.
He left no string, untouched, unplucked
as he played me like tight guitar.

And just before I thought I’d die
he chuckled and he separated,
so hot thought that I might cry
too long already waited!

“Don’t question me, just follow me,”
he said with husky timbre.
“I want to finish this where you can be
my staring goddess of the limber!”

The street it seemed much wider than
my legs could ever part
My breaths so close that they’d not span
the half beats of my heart.

If sheets could whisper torrid tales
from creases made so blissfully
and tell of treks across my peaks and vales
and breaking points of ecstasy;
then these would tell of sweat and cream
and tortures brought to sublime brink
and orders given oh so masterfully
that I don’t care to even think.

The ropes and cuffs are my desire
his pleasures feed my own.
The more he makes me plead and I perspire
the more the merry moan.

There's no escaping from his mouth
his hands, his tongue his power.
No matter if I scream and shout
when he has played my body for long hours.

“No more until you prove that you
want more than what I gave.”
He stops abrupt as if he’s through
and I know just how to behave.

And so I knead his flesh and kiss
his body taught and praise desire.
No muscle, zone or fetish missed
as I so willingly admire.

And when he thinks I’ve earned the best
that’s what he gives me then.
It’s always more and never less
and I can expect it all again and yet again.

A moment in his guiding hands I find
are worth a thousand without decision
He knows my wants, my thoughts and binds
my passion up in his with such precision.

We are two sides to one great whole
submissive and the dominant.
Completing one another’s soul
and learning every fantasy to grant.