tagErotic Poetrybreathless in the wake of him

breathless in the wake of him


I have spent the day in
quivering bliss
remembering the thrill he gave me
and I could not displace it from my
skin’s memory
even if I tried
     (though I know I won’t try such a thing)
from the moment I stood
within electric distance from his body
     (NorCal boy pure and virile – no cocky        swagger he
     but confident gait of one who knows he is desired)
desire him I have
and did
and do
and though my stomach fluttered with a twinge
of insecurity
     (am I beautiful enough for him
     or will my ample backside
     or firm jaw
     or any other would-be flaw
his gentle hands soon found their mark
innocent at first
     (he brushed my arm and sent
     little lightning bolts to my fingertips)
then soothing and sure
     (pride in the curve of my waistline
     my firm belly
     as his fingers explore the treasure he has found)
and whispers under the crowd became
hot breath on my neck
and a subtle pressure of lips on skin
before he pulled away
     (how I longed for laughter from the stage
     so he would have an excuse
     to bend toward me)
and when I turned in response
to those hushed glances
warm firm lips met mine
and oh the kiss
     (shaking now in memory
     of that deliciousness
     sure and skilled and
     his taste
     so sweet and musk and man
     I melted there in the crowd)
so that the rest of this evening was spent
in the body language of secret lovers
kisses stolen every second breath
hands twined together
     (when they weren’t engaged in appreciation of
     the divinity of our young bodies)
and waiting impatiently until
the crowd melted away and
we could melt away

out into the parking lot we slipped
oblivious to the voices around us
we stood there in the lamplight
in the middle of the asphalt
in the way of everyone else
     (such a show we must have put on
     for all those envious and amused)
as he pulled me in so hard
that I could feel how hard
he had become
my inner thigh bruised by his desire
as he buried my appreciation
in kisses
and I smothered his attempts at
directions to his house
in the same
     (breathing is optional at this point
     oxygen unnecessary when
     one could instead subsist
solely on the thrill of contact)
and as I sped down the freeway
     (beer in my blood
     and elation in my loins
     causing the road to feel like sky
     and driving seemed unnecessary
     I couldn’t help but arrive wherever he was)
I could only envision that body
that perfect specimen of man
ripe and ready for the taking
and waiting on his doorstep for
this woman
     (lucky girl I know myself to be)

my arrival was greeted with the taste of
hops on his tongue
and need in his lips
     (and below his hips)
and the grand tour of his home could only end
in the large and spacious room
with the large and spacious bed
in which he sleeps
and the life that is his
     (temporary return to sanity as I
     remembered that he did not exist
     for this night’s pleasure alone)
and of all the things
of all the sweet and precious and endearing things
he decided he had best serenade me
     (as if I needed coaxing
     to submit – I had a speech prepared
     should he have required coaxing of his own)
and we sang along to eagles tunes and
he played while I sang harmony
and for a minute it felt like friends and reality
and life beyond hunger
and I was a bit lost as I consciously
separated sex from love
     (because this is not love
     this is craving yearning desperate longing for
     physical pleasure
     and glad only that such a man
     as this
     could also make me laugh)

I slowly made my way to sit behind him
he on the bench
and me on the bed
my legs gently pressed around his thighs
as I relished the curve of his shoulders
and he sang low and sexy
and then
     (and then…)
it was too much and he was
turned around
pressing me into his sheets
his perfectly shaped arms
holding me down
     (as if I would struggle)
as he tore the breath from my throat
with his lips

and then it was hours of
making love
and making passion
and in him I found my libido’s match
     (rare to find a man
     who can outlast me)
as we bridged the valleys of his comforter
and slammed the headboard against the wall
and his lips on my breasts
and my talents below
and I tried to play coy
     (silly girl I am sometimes)
but before I knew what had hit me
he was inside me
inside me
rock hard and velvet smooth
filling me just right
     (he could have stayed for days
     and I would never have complained)
as he weighed heavy over me
and something about him
his virility
his body
his strength
his confidence
moved me like no one has moved me in
too long for me to
and the heat tearing through me
was so intense
the feeling coming over me
     (not just desire
     but satisfaction and desire in one
     as if the thirst and the nectar
     had come together in
perfect harmony
and nothing else would be necessary)
has lasted through this day
and left me breathless in the wake of

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