The lights blur bokeh,
As gasps fill the gaps
Of moans that crescendo in vibrato
There’s death caught in her throat
As breaths play cops and robbers,
And she’s eager to catch.

Her head falls back,
Thoughts fall back
Further in the recess
Gone into the excess
As ecstasy burns each synapse
She’s feral like a neanderthal
Needing to feel it more.

Hips sway like a slithering snake
As she meets his gaze and quickened pace
His ******* need to plant his garden
In her exquisite honeydew-scented Eden
A piston of man pillar of Adam breaks the atoms
Nuclear in their collision,
Fission, in their friction,
No additives, pure addiction.

She screams through the gates of heaven,
A banshee calling as the lion roars,
Mighty hammer of Thor,
Crashing through her core like lightning
As her pulsations demanded more,.
Prideful steed empties his streams
As white rivers pour out of a beaten cavern
Nectar of life out of a pretty tulip,

They lay in the decadence,
Scented in their collective musk
A cologne that plays the notes of this orchestra,
As all settles to a simple calm after the storm.

Well, you came to this place,
The light of day erased
With the red glow of neon bouncing off your face.

She loves leather lined with fleece,
With her hands held high,
Begging for release,

She loves leather with fleece,
Legs spread and dangling
With honey pools flowing to the sheets
In every crease and wrinkle, I see ravines

She begs for pain
With pouted lips, and eyes that grin
The tendrils of the flogger trace
The very curvature of her frame
One slap against her breast,
A snap gasp as it reddens with a twinge
She laughs back and then -
Another crash against milky skin,

Her petals bloom,
Parting with nectar drooling,
And the leather fingers trace the ridge,
A calm before the storm begins,
Tickling nerves like exciting crowds
Riling up until the breath breathes loud
She’s moaning through her longing sounds
And then the crash comes, to burn it down

How she longs to feel
Something more, something real
With the silicone breaching her opening,
Deflowering in her garden of sin,
She screams for more, screams for him
Needs me more than she can bare
Tells me where, and tells me when
But this is just a game,

Her eyes roll back,
Her hips raise and thrash,
Legs shake and collapse,
Mind blank, a relapse
As the screams quake
And reverb back,
She sees god in the aftermath
As heat flushes over like a sunbath
And the sweat beads cool
As tongue expresses a need to lap
Water to replenish the rain that falls
In her a waterfall
Pulsating through it all…

She loves leather and fleece
As she patiently drops,
Never wanting my release.

Not a kiss to tell of,
Just hot lust;
Aching to feel her
Lips, around-the-clock

Sweat grips,
My teeth grit,
A symphony of groans.
Hot is the breath
That escaped my lungs.
Loud was the noise;
Rustles, creaks, moans.
Long did the hours draw,
Still coming to dawn.

Anonymous, oblivious
To the person kneeling before me.
My head spinning,
Throbbing,
Weakness in the knees.
My heart racing,
Trembling,
Color flushing cheeks.
Darkness, heavy scents
Intoxicating.
Gripping the sheets

I love everything about you. I love your smell, from the way your cologne and deodorant sticks to your freshly washed skin to the way your natural musk smells when you sweat through a hot summer night stuck to me. I love how your skin is always soft, it brushes up against my thighs and cheeks like a blanket of the highest quality. Your voice is deep, but comforting and I adore all the sounds your body makes, especially the little grunts and sighs. When you speak soft words in my ear, I just melt into soft butter and I even love the way your silly words tease me, even when I get upset. Your bone structure is manly, but in a way that your body wraps around mine ideally when we hug. The way your eyes sparkle in the sunshine is like fairy dust and I could get lost in your gaze forever.
Your hand fits into mine perfectly and your tongue twists perfectly with mine when our lips collide. The movement of your hips with mine is like a metronome to my heart. All you could do is sleep and eat and I would never get tired of watching you. If you were a colour, you would be your favourite, purple, because it represents devotion, pride, mystery, magic and nobility. If you were a smell, it would be freshly cut grass on an early summer morning. Most people would say love feels like a sunny summer day, but ours is like one of those spring days where the temperature is fit for flowy dresses, but the sky is filled with some dark clouds that pass in the evening and there is a slight warm wind breezing through everyone's hair. Every single evening when you tell me you love me over the phone my stomach flutters with butterflies. As an item, you would be my favourite comfy old sweater. I love every single imperfection on your skin and in your soul. If I were to describe hanging out and having fun with you, the closest thing I could compare it to is the first bite of a freshly baked warm cinnamon pastry. I used to hate the idea of life, but if we were to create a family I would actually want to grow old with you. If there exists a heaven, it would be us sharing a fresh lemonade and chuckling next to a lake where tiny birds chirp and eat the crumbs of the bread we baked together. If you were a drink, you would be high quality whiskey and lastly, if you were a person, you would be mine.

pressed against a gentle river of bedsheets
falling loose from the mattress with every wave
to finally intertwine in the rythym of our heartbeats
i cannot help being depraved, as each motion makes me crave

"adore me, adore me, all that much, and more"
i plead, i cry, and his hands overwhelm mine
"a pretty little thing, obedient and kind, perfect for a *****"
as long as he gives me attention, all will be fine

all he's ever shown is the blushing red of kisses and bites
and all he's ever known is a cruel kind of rational
but even with all the flowers he gives, he never seems to fight
and it all seems to decay into something entirely foul

im done with the suffocating scent of amaryllis that i let fill my arteries
the sweet sticky pollen that tightens my throat so i can no longer breathe

Shel Silverstein and Roald Dahl
Live just down the hall
From each other
Somewhere in my mind

'Cause these ***** old men
Are known to have penned
Many favorite kid books of mine

But they also worked blue
And wrote more than a few
Naughty songs, novels and rhymes

They stayed true to their style
They'd go the extra mile
Their ****'s guaranteed to blow minds!