Bed of Many Pleasures

On your bed of many pleasures,
I am another woman
Living dreamily in my own body,
Looking down to see you
In the darkened room,
Your head nestled between my
Surprised thighs.

Your mouth at my other one,
In previously no-man’s land,
World of Enchantments,
Lights exploding in my head
In time to your rhythmic movements.
From somewhere in the room
I hear noises I can’t place,
Sounds unfamiliar, and yet not so.
With a start I realize that
The sounds are coming from me,
Fevered moaning, short pants,
Hot gasps gulping sensualized air.

And still, you continue
Your sweet onslaught,
Revenge for my believing
I could have done without this
For so many tongueless years.

I look down again, seeing
Your short, dark hair,
The broad expanse of your back,
Your hands holding my hips
As it they held treasured secrets.
Putting my hands on yours,
I feel our fingers join together
Like a lace curtain in passion’s window,
Holding me place-bound,
Spell-bound, body-bound,
Such passion and tenderness,
Skill and dedication
To such a small portion of my anatomy,
Orchestrating every nerve, every sense,
Our own private Disneyland,
Fourth of July fireworks, and
Every Christmas present I ever
Wanted, creating a symphony
With your honeyed lips.

Able to stand such intensity
No longer, I beg you
To come up to me, wanting to wrap
My lips around you like a barbershop pole,
Resplendent with the image of directive
Stripes guiding me to your Home away from home.

You move up to kiss me and
I taste myself on your tongue
With a zing of surprise,
Then begin my descent, your sigh
Guiding me to your nether-heaven.

-Mystral (aka Siren)