tagErotic PoetryThe Holiday Rapture

The Holiday Rapture

byJasperMan©

I've decided to write a REAL erotic poem, for the holiday spirit. Nothing perverse however, but just something filled with erotic passion and Christmas day fever.

The rapture of love,
that captured her soul;
His fingers did all the singing.
"Behold" said he "Behold my love,
a little tune I have for thee."

The humanity of this session
drawn in the blood of the passion
of this night.
His breath so hot caused just a fright
that made her stand on edge's darkened end.
The more and more
her body rose way
to grant his passage this special day.

"No" said she "No, not I. Tis all too much
I'll surly die."
With breahtless passion
made speechless later.
Her convulse was provocative,
in her slender form it melted.
"Please, don't tease" Her breathless moan
it whispered. "Thou but holds all, why must thou
tease?"

On his mighty wind to breath,
bring stance upon her mocha flesh and tease.
To taste and waist not,
the soft and ease.
Her belly it trumble as much her knees.
Tossing and turning under strained
loves disease.

"Messiuers why me." Her ragged jagged
breath and heaved. "Messiuers this tease,
best pleasure for thee, do not tease
I am for thee."

With devils grin
and snooty chin.
A nose raised high the air.
Aloft came no sorrow
for her beating breast to borrow.
His rapier will to tease.

"Thou art mine." Whispered he. "Forever
this night, but thou art mine. I'll teach
thee lust, within my love devine."

Away gave passage to her parted thighs,
for man to grant and share is wond suave
and thine.
He took her maiden passage,
and made it swim devine.
Moist and damp within confines.

"Messieurs!" She cried.
"Madmoiselle" he sighed.
Deep set in came awful night.
How shattered is this awful thing called 'time'
it drives these lovers to fast divide.
Until the nother time.

However this awful thing called 'time'.
Not this night shall we divide.
Hold close to he, hold him and sigh.
Listen to his heart beat
within shallow breast.
You hold his heart,
so by and by.
Till passions peek,
shall set you high.

Within her rapture,
is lovers tide.

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