Thunderstorm

July 24, 2013

Thunderstorm

Overhead, the lightning flashes,
the rumble sounds in seconds,
and I feel the rain begin to patter
on the tent.

I wish that you were
here.

And as I close my eyes,
reality and dreams blend
and I find you are somehow here
with me on this thin mattress.

You are delighted that I waited for you.
You run your hand up my thigh
and into the secret places reserved
for you alone.

We kiss and explore as the rain
begins to come down harder,
and passion and nature
join together just as we
become one.

When lightning strikes,
you delve deep
and with the thunder,
I respond,
my cries drowned out
by the blasts of sound
nature provides.

The storm goes on
and we grapple, slick with sweat,
entwined and loving hard
until
at last
we climax
with the storm
and lie panting
as the thunder grows distant,
and our hearts slow.

 

 

 

Heat

November 8, 2012

Heat

Fire
burning
feeling heat
turning inside me
making me yearn for your kisses,
your touch, your renewed desire for me, only me
and it awakens my longing for you, only you,
makes me writhe, surrender to you
knowing as I do
fire burns
inside
you

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.