- Erotic Poetry
- The Art Climax
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Tall, dark stranger in the museum,
walks up beside me;
richness of the woods.
wafting through the air, shivers
glancing up at the art, smiling.
The arousal, the pull, the intrigue, we both feel it as
the urge lures my hand along my body,
caressing the fullness of my breast.
Others are looking, eyes never leave the peace of art.
Tingles prick along my skin;
hands move lower, head tilts to the side.
A click clack, click clack, on the floor as
he moves behind me, takes
my hand in his; guides
it under my skirt between
my legs, feeling the dampness
of my panties. We moan, slide
fingers to the tender folds.
Silkiness' meets our tips, rhythm builds.
Embracing.
Breathing, across thy neck, honeyed skin.
Hard cock pressed, throbbing
as the moans are so deep.
Our fingers intwined, climax builds.
Warmth floods my body, shaking, thrusting,
bursting like a tidal wave.
As we look at the same art.
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