Slow

November 7, 2015

Slow

I admit, you’re kind of young,
not my usual type.
But you really seem so into me,
and I don’t mean to gripe.
What we’re doing’s not a job
and you don’t have to rush.
It seems you’ve got a lot to learn,
but there’s no need to blush.
I can help, just simmer down,
let’s take our time tonight.
It’s okay, love, take a breath,
and please leave on the light.

Breathe

October 26, 2012

Breathe

Breath
slow and steady,
eyes slightly dilated
in anticipation.

And then I see you
I smell your scent
nostrils flare
heart speeds up
lips curve in a
smile.

Your kiss is
delicious.

Your hands
know where to go.

You caress me
in a way, familiar
yet always new,
and so I always
melt again,
into your touch,
parts of me liquid
and craving
and ready.

My breath is faster now.
And as we undress,
wildly and frantic
for more
(skin
more
skin
more)
we lose ourselves
in this moment of
sin.

Our breaths
are quicker now
as we finally
meet
in that essential way.

I want to scream
(moan)
(cry)
with the pleasure of it
and so I do.

And so do you.

And it pushes us on,
your mutual pleasure
giving me more,
mine inspiring you,

which is why it is called
making
love.

And when our climax
comes
(and comes)
(and comes)
in an echoing
explosion
our breathing is more
like gasping
staccato notes
punctuated
with mono-syllabic
phrases that make little
actual
sense
(oh…)
(Ohh!)
(Yes!)
but communicate
everything.

And hearts still pounding
(pounding
pounding)
as our sweat-slicked skin
melts into a puddled
hot
mass
of well-warmed
muscles
our breathing slows,
with the
occasional
quiver
and
(ooh…so)
satisfied
moan.