Park Place

this morning I awoke
slowly
in stillness
and i know
you must have been there
somewhere in the middle
of sleep
and consciousness
maybe a part of my dream
not quite ready
to take a final bow
because without thinking
i found my hand
touching myself
bringing myself to the edge
of a powerful
orgasm
the kind that you
own
and pile up
like little plastic Monopoly houses
on Park Place
waiting for me to
come around

May 8. 2015

local cuisine

close your eyes
you moan into my ear
the heat in your breath tells me
it’s not a request
be still
(i try)
but this whisper
is against my thigh
as your finger treks
up my leg
like a parched traveler
searching for water
and i tremble
involuntarily
you see,
my reaction to you
is a reflex
when you are near
(and even when you are not)
i need you closer
i need to breathe your
exhaled breath
i want to swallow your moans
and taste your orgasm
i need you
not pressed against me
because even that is too far
i need you to occupy
the same space
i need you to reside
inside of me
and as if on cue
you plunge inside
fingers first
then tongue
exploring and
devouring me
like the local cuisine
or a forbidden fruit
that leaves sticky juice
dripping down your chin
one taste is not enough
you need more
to satisfy this
intense craving
that has consumed
your every thought
and so you continue to
search
and explore
and taste
until you come
to a new place
now slick with desire
from orgasm
after orgasm
a curious finger
squeezes inside
as if testing the water
in a new paradise
i welcome you in
by pressing my hips into
your hand
(and now your mouth)
wanting you deeper inside
just as i feel the ache
from the loss
of your retreating tongue
you press in
without pause or hesitation
hard
needing
and greedy
taking what you need from me
until you explode
filling me
leaving me dripping
like a staked claim

yours.

May 7, 2015

tequila and honey

your dirty mouth
presses against my ear
pouring words soaked with
tequila and honey
whispers of how
all day your mind has been
crowded with
thoughts of touching me
as your hand
slowly traces the skin of my leg
making its way to
wet lace
i try to remain silent
but a quiet low moan escapes me
your tongue traces my neck
while your fingers
searching for my orgasm
push aside the laced barrier
your other hand now
covers my parted lips
as your fingers
navigate my flesh
with a sense of ownership
staking your claim
as my body melts into you
in trembling release

April 23, 2015

him

he is one of those people
who has a talent for life
waltzing through each day
and hanging the moon
in his spare time

he looks into my eyes
not as if they were windows
but as if they are a hole
in the fucking brick walls of my soul

words roll off his tongue like molasses
he quotes poets and tells dirty jokes
in the same breath

he asks me to dance at 1:00 in the afternoon
as he sings Sinatra in my ear

he swallows tequila
without blinking an eye
while i’m getting drunk on his smile

April 23, 2o15