Kisses ever powerful
fingers massaging the spot
Till passion takes over
body begging for what she's got.
Legs up on my shoulder
spreading her garden's bloom.
Buried deep within her pot
not wanting to explode too soon.
Plunging rhymically
to the background of our groans
Hearing her calling out "baby, baby"
is but the title to our songs.
Sailing to a weighless sky
stars shooting pass in jest
Know of nothing to compare
cause she is the very best.
Fuck me mama till I cry
drive my senses to lover's hell.
Make me scream out loud
as you continue to ring my bell.
Torture me with your passions
drive my senses more insane.
Flesh to flesh in a fusion state
sweat pouring down like rain.
When you say, "cum baby, cum
explode in me right this minute"
it only pushes me to want more
and thrust to get deeper in it.
When that erupting starts
I'm dreading to ever let go
for all I feel is pleasured bites
and a craving in wanting mo.
Ahh, the serenity, that peace
that floating on air is so neat.
Again we reached the mountain top
and my love for you is complete.
Del Cano 2007 April
3 comments:
So she's good in the sack, but can she cook?
http://journals.aol.co.uk/acoward15/andy-the-bastard
What a hot piece of poetry. I have to get a cool wash cloth and put on my face.
I would love to reach that kind of mountain top. You splash my body with desire from your magic words.
Myke
I find I can not read you without turning up the air
And still you'll find me sweating and squirming in my chair.
Your writing is indeed magical.
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