Wildly tamed,
an oxymoron I didn't see coming.
Beneath the sheet,
kisses exchange fluid,
words of endearment
as I ****** in
and out slowly,
reaching the spot
of pure sensory relief.

RnB fills the room's acoustics,
you feeling my ****,
"Give it to me,"
you moan,
as if it's your final
dying wish.

Sweat runs down my temple,
heat swells up against
our bodies,
friction,
motion,
that won't give you sickness,
but liberates you from it.

Pounding hard,
like hammering nails,
stuck out veins,
full of energy,
bursting with passion.

I turn your body around,
hunching down,
with a looser opening as
your thighs spread wide.
Shaft slides inside,
smooth sailing
to the sea of glory.

Your ****** is a mystery,
excitement shifting to slight pain.
Moving fast like I'm on *******,
never lined one,
though,
I'm sure the high is the same.

You beg me to stop,
but I'm only getting
started,
not ready to hit the off switch.
"Just let me stay inside
a little longer,"
warm like morning coffee,
moist like an oasis,
thirsty.

Redness tingles,
reaching the pinnacle,
declaring imminent freedom and
finally,
pulling out from the delicacy.
The bird flies
back to its nest that
is your mouth,
load’s shot inside,
swallowed like it was
your
favourite meal.

Wildly tamed,
an oxymoron that depicts
the wild beast
you awakened,
then tamed,
with assured love,
as we cuddle
into the night’s embrace.