The sound of my name is in your whisper,
tenderness in the brush of your lips.
My skin thins where you touch me,
your mouth trailing fire down creamy skin.
Your hand tangled in my hair,
pulling my head back,
forcing me to submit to your control.
With a protesting gasp,
my eyes slide away, then back
to the intensity of your look,
caught in the darkness hunger brings,
and I'm so perfectly vulnerable,
eyes heavy with pleasure, cheeks flushed rosy.
The silver sparking stings of your slap
on that round, tender flesh
rush a fierce warmth to the center of me.
You slowly, rhythmically stroke deep inside me,
fingers curling around my hips,
gripping them hard for traction to thrust.
I scream from the pleasure and pain of you,
the sound swallowed by the pillow,
sweet gathering heat creeping up my spine,
overcoming the greedy ache i feel inside.
I'm full of a growing ripeness,
as we paint the walls red with passion,
and panting and moaning,
desperate to prolong this intense pleasure,
I'm consumed.
A contest entry
- In The Mood by WingedWolf.
600 points, ended July 13, 2008, 15 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Comments
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MY OFFICIAL COMMENT (lol)
I love this. The last two words really says it all. You know, I could really relate to some of this... kinda like you wanna say no.. yet you don't. great job and good luck.
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See, I knew you would do an awesome job. Very visually inspiring and sensual. I could picture it with my mind's eye. I also like some of the verbage you use, "as we paint the walls red with passion." Nice!
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can't wait to see it.. i kinda have to judge the contest soon, so the sooner you write it the better.
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