Erogenous Zones

Inside.
And off with shoes.
But wait...
Unbidden, this spot...
where was elicited and captured,
first whimper...
tingles now to walk through.

And that spot,
once flooded and
slippery with proof of desire,
and wiggling alarm,
thoughts of escape...
and denial even.
Ha.
But no, though...
Thankfully.
Control.
And grateful
leaping return
to eager, hopeful
keening acquiescence.

Suddenly that spot
of floor seems suited
better to kneeling up
sliding aquaplaned on desire,
and to leaning gratefully into suffering
upon fingertips
for treasures,
on tongues in lips and teeth and
in biting, writhing begging need
To obey and to please.

That spot.

And there...
There was once a waterfall...
Right down the back of that couch
where sat for a time in a small morning,
a seeming to me mountain
of driving, whirling certitude.
And demand.

And upon that wall, above,
are painted moonlit clouds,
in gasping cries
of surprised ecstasy...
A mnemonic portrait
of shock and trembling desire,
mined deep, deliberately?
from somewhere!
within...
where filled now
by lust and gratitude.
And servitude, joy, receipt,
acknowledgement...
accolade...
Mingled deep in awed hues
of yearning and fulfillment
infusing this space,
woman...
with new impassioned
hungry begging ache to serve.
And to please.