AislingWeaver, Poetry

Poetry ~ Palm Pressed

More senryu work, started, this time, by Monocle. His are white, mine red.  

Palm Pressed

Mouth taken with breasts
idle hand wanders downward
Devil’s tool indeed
An invocation
“oh god”, whispered, arching back
mortal cathedral.
Your hand over mine
piggy back ride, following
toward secrets I know
Dip your fingers in
anoint me, us, with passion
savor the rapture.

Exploring your folds

your fingers splayed top of mine
light like feathers

Play your instrument

strum sounds of pleasure from me
my touch over yours.
Face against your breast
palm against your mound, both wet
from different springs
Lost. Will you find me?
Lifted hips and arching back
toes gripping the sheets

You’re found, and held fast

other hand slid down arched back
dipped in from under.

A sigh and spread thighs

an open invitation
no, request, for more.
Between my pressed palms 
undulating, bucking hips
fingers teasing need
Breathless precipice
dangling, begging for the fall
“please let me come now!”

Swirls and swipes slowing

trapped ‘tween my hands, held on edge
until need breaks you

So close, needing more

“fuck me please” slips from my lips
naked, raw with lust.
Those waited-for words
bring a smile and a whisper
“Not until you come.”
Cry of frustration
fingers pressing your deeper
hips rocking faster. 

Desperate music

strung tight, long… longer… until
“Now. Come for me now.”

Passion fractured scream

drawn bow released, quivering
lost in pleasure’s fog.
Watching, feeling all
surrender’s contorted cry
just what I wanted.
Eyes opening, slow,
dazed and boneless, watching you
lick your fingers clean

Perfection itself  ~ your realization of lust ~ I’ll take my turn…. soon.


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