What some may define as a casual affair, ours was not. Despite her insistence that she remain “single,” semantics flooded us and long, overly-analytical conversations ensued. The truth is, none of it mattered. My priorities are commissioned to one insatiable, appetent, need: tempestuous, unrelenting, libidinous ... need. I opted to be content with the knowledge that at least once, I had topped her list of things on which to meditate and/or masturbate. Every chance to touch was the beginning of a brand new affair. I wanted to take her exactly as a woman would, breathless and constant, worshiping between her opened thighs. The thrust of my hips translated to the curl in my fingertips- my need to please her. I folded my legs and settled myself in at the head of her well-balanced meal. The rocking is easy as it begins, one finger testing the satin-like waters ahead. The eye contact between us is steady and teasing in this moonlit room. She’s searching for my happiness in the quest for her final thrust. I’m searching for the look that’s coming soon. Her eyes roll slowly back into her reeling head; sweet moans stumble softly from her lips. I let my eyes drop to the task at hand. Watching my fingers disappear and re-appear into her salivating-- mouth. Occasionally I ease back to tease against her pulse. She’s begging me to return, humping my hand with silent pleas. My own lips transform my smile into something evil, a half-smile, a spiraling descent. My left hand slides behind her waist to anchor her for the ride. My right hand is 7 degrees warmer than the other. I moisten my fingers one by one before folding three of them together and nestling them deeply inside her little single room apartment for rent. However this is categorized, whatever we should call this; I am here now, in my element. Others have oxygen and food, my list, for now, glistens in the glow of her (dare I say it?) eager cunt. Faster, faster, my own exhales mix with her gasping breaths. I’m urging her on as she starts to cradle her own clit with fervent intent. Her free hand reaches out to pull on my nipple, a stern gesture of appreciation. Our movements fall in sync as I reposition myself over her rolling, undulating, sweaty form. With her eyes closed and mouth open I give in to temptation and position my pinched nipples against her parched and pleading lips. She sucks hungrily at each one while I speed the rhythm between her legs. Her thighs are closing in on my sinking forearm as I bend my fingertips up, pulling waves from the sweetest spot. The night air of the open window carries away the sounds of our love. Her deep guttural moans, punctuated with subsequent involuntary purrs, chase my words through the holes in the bedroom screen. Her breath settles as her arms snuggle me closer in. She cups my face in her hands and kisses me deeply, letting me believe, if only for tonight, that I truly am the only one.
***** This needs work. I dislike some of the language.******** i seem to write so many sexual poems, i had to try out a story... the weird part is I don't try to write sexual poems.. they just somehow end up that way....
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