Mirrors are made for such as we
where your eyes are held by mine,
with heated breath upon my cheek
as you stand so close behind.
With softest whispers in my ear
of pleasures yet to be,
you tell me of such raging need
that will delve so deep in me.

Hands whose skill I know so well
free garments in restrain’d haste,
and bare me so in mischief’s name
to show woman of a baser taste.
My wanton self so true revealed
a seeking now of that softest kind,
my expose’d flesh for your caress
in want of searching hand to find.

The mirror makes me watch anew
the reflected mask that is your face,
and hands that in disembodied play
make fingers light in knowing trace.
Moving round from close behind
they barely touch me now and yet,
are already deep within my mind
igniting such a fire for you.

Such power now o’erwhelms my strength
and holds my neck in softest clasp,
it pulls me tight back to you
with breathing left in shortest gasps.
I reach and find a hard’ning flesh
and insistent force I do now need,
my skirt so falls that you might find
my body which to you must cleave.

Downward slides your knowing hand
while naked in your tight’ning hold,
touching where you must find
my flooding self in welcome bold.
And thighs that part with practiced ease
aware that I’m being opened now,
as I feel your fingers sliding free
for all that you’re preparing me.

***** you drive so deep within
desiring all your length to grow,
to fill at once my eager need
of eternity impaled on this I vow.
Twisting, writhing, pushing back
to gain in me all that you are,
knowing that rising swell so sweet
that makes me woman so complete.

Your hand moves up to close my mouth
to hold the scream you sense will rise,
as my body pulses so on yours
and ****** now explodes my mind.
I know nothing now but what we are
the mirror holding us as one,
subsiding now in limp stupor
as you hold me in your arms once more.

Francesca Anderssen 2018