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ArcheressRabbit
02-24-2011, 04:41 AM
Foreplay

You rush your lips to mine.
The five clock shadow rubs against my cheek
In an attack that makes my limbs go weak.
The smell of your cologne one of many
That pervades my clearer senses, if I any.

I will not be outdone.
I defend my fortress by weakening yours
But doing so opens new doors
And when you pull back you whisper soft,
A question that’s been asked oft,

“Would you, could you, now, tonight?
I promise it’ll be alright.”

You move faster.
Your lips assault my face, my throat, my ears.
The building pleasure brings me to tears.
I can’t I won’t, I don’t think-
SHIT! I’m close to the brink!

“Would you, could you, now, tonight?
I promise it’ll be alright.”

Your face goes lower.
Yanking down the fabric covering my chest
You explore territory denied to the rest.
You lave my breasts, you suckle my teats,
You taste them, lovingly, like a child does sweets.

“Would you, could you, now, tonight?
I promise it’ll be alright.”

You seem unsatisfied.
Your hands caress my belly and stop about my hips
Tenderly you touch, then pull until the cloth rips.
You stroke my mound and touch a finger to my seam
But between my thighs there already is a heavy stream.

“Would you, could you, now, tonight?
I promise it’ll be alright.”

I don’t know how you do this.
No, I really don’t have a clue.
You just seem to KNOW just what to do.
My barriers are breaking, my whole frame is shaking,
There is nothing that will stop the aching.

Unless I say, “Please do.”

YES! I would, I could, I SHOULD.
Now, here, with you, tonight!
I don’t know what’s going to happen,
But I trust it’ll be alright.”

davesmistress
02-24-2011, 11:24 PM
Very nice

Thanks for the addition

Brigit Astar
02-25-2011, 09:51 AM
When it comes to poetry, I hate it when someone tries to analyze it. Poetry was never meant to be analyzed. Poetry is meant to be enjoyed--or not. I enjoyed this poem. I liked it. That's all I've got to say.