- Erotic Poetry
- His Playground
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His hands caress me, controlling, possessive.
His torture is sweet, and oh, so impressive!
The pulses run through me, like shards of glass,
His hardness against me, threatening my ass.
His hands on my throat, restricting the flow, but between my hot thighs, the answer is no!
His breathing is ragged, He drinks in my desire,
His body is rigid, my skin is on fire!
"Not yet my slut... wait for my word",
As i beg for release, my pleas go unheard.
Deft fingers work magic, their target in sight,
And i am abandoned, lost to the fight.
My hips rock a rhythm, their dance is unknown,
And soon is the climax, the reaching of home.
i cry out His name, as He gives me the word,
"Cum now my slut... make yourself heard".
i convulse for Him wildly, i throw back my head,
my back is arched upwards, so far from the bed.
i feel myself floating, then crashing back down,
He holds me so gently, He loves His playground.
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