- Erotic Poetry
- Again
Note: You can change font size, font face, and turn on dark mode by clicking the "A" icon tab in the Story Info Box.
You can temporarily switch back to a Classic Literotica® experience during our ongoing public Beta testing. Please consider leaving feedback on issues you experience or suggest improvements.
Click hereTrying to stave off my fear of loss,
As I attempt to step outside my safe, little world,
Seeing a woman I thought I’d never see again,
No, it CAN’T be her, here, now, she wouldn’t be here!
She comes to the table,
Fuck, it IS her!
All in blue, hair shorter,
She hugs me, telling me she was there to get over being dumped herself.
I run off, to collect myself,
How can SHE be here?!
I come back, now ready to face my fear,
As my heart and body yearn for her.
We talk, laugh, catch up.
We got out to the dance floor,
Slow dance, and talk into each other’s ears over music,
She shows off her new lacy, blue bra,
And everyone disappears,
The music stops.
Right there and then, I want to fuck her again.
The shapely breast, the alabaster skin,
Underneath, I know there’s a luscious nipple I am ALL too familiar with.
We slow dance some more, my hand on her back.
I try fast dancing with her, later on that night.
Her sexy ass and legs moving her about, covered by tight denim.
I try to do my best, feeling not foolish, but teased.
I rush back to my seat.
Had to tell her I was feeling dizzy, hadn’t eaten.
She comes back, we and my friend talk.
Others say how cute a couple he and she would make,
But my pal brushes it off, for my sake.
I still want to take her home and fuck her again,
To give her the chance to do all she felt she could never do with me before,
To have my cock, still wanting to be in her, do all the things it did to her before, and so much more.
My hands, all over her, feeling her soft body again,
To have her eyes look at me, and ONLY me, as her mouth swallows me whole.
To have her wet pussy, cum all over my face, as her body rocks in orgasm over me.
To have her body, which I have worshipped since the day we met, against mine again.
To have my hands, work her flesh, as an artist works clay, working her like bread dough,
She has to work in the morning, as she tells me I am forgiven for pushing after we made our peace.
My heart soars, and I see hope for us to be together, even if only in friendship,
But I do not push, for if I do, I ruin it all.
She offers to be there next week, but if I know I return, I will push her away again.
I am left with memories, hopes, dreams, of she who had been my naughty little girl, on my mind, and in my heart, yet again.
- COMMENTS
RoniBover 16 years agoThis may be the shortest stroke story on Literotica, or perhaps one of the longest stroke poems here ... not sure. You certainly pull the reader into the story, no question, with a terrific set up, with the tinge of fear mashed up against the heat of desire. The prosaic approach here (ie. prosaic v. poetic, not meaning dull or anything, just to clarify) definitely works as eroticism. However, i think it tells us too much as a POEM, and it doesn't make the reader work hard enough in that sense. There's tense problems in L1-4 and L14. I would try making "She offers to be there next week," a LB. I think this might make it more clear that the scenario depicted didn't happen, that it was a flight of fancy. One sentence is awkward within itself: "The shapely breast, the alabaster skin,/
Underneath, I know there’s a luscious nipple I am ALL too familiar with." -- sounds like the nipple is underneath the skin (we know it refers to the bra, but grammatically it's misleading). Overall, despite these minor issues, it's very captivating in its way: the rambling style is an internal monologue, and i know MY internal monologues run very similar to this! Thanks for the read!
