Of Two Minds

Dry, and oh so serious

Come on, let’s kiss a while

Terse, tight, defending rights

I want to taste your lovely smile

Brain drained, tired, mired

Wet my lips with juicy kisses

Making music from minutia

Throw away your tease ellipses

Sculpting social change from wood.

And kiss me, kiss me, kiss me good!

Commute?

Morning light takes me away

But she lingers,

Lives in me like warmth

That stays in sheets.

There is something of her scent

Still in the spirals of my prints,

And brushing my lips

I am roused to reverse my course

And race back to her tender flesh. 

Beneath The Mulberry Tree (private burial)

There’s a calico kitten beneath the mulberry tree.

There’s a pile of earth beneath the moon.

There’s a calico kitten beneath the mulberry tree.

There’s one less kitten in her brood.

Sterile Waters

Torrents of cum will flow.

Rivers and washouts,

Waterfalls and rivulets,

Will flood your body

Hot, and wet, and fragrant,

Soaking your skin

In the saline waters

That will not ebb

Until I’ve made your

Back arch, one more time.

Breast Musings

I have an urge to lick the curve of your bouncing under-breasts. I like them best when they’re slick with your sweat and wicking wet on underwires.

Sometimes sharp nipples don’t like the hard stipple, the slashing, the flicking, the swath. They want to be washed by tongues that are tender and sucked into mouths that are soft.

Fill my hands with breasts.

Let me be your brassiere as

I nuzzle your neck.

 

The puffy areola,

Before it twists,

Is fragile and rich,

Delightful to kiss,

Until turgid, it turns.

I like to make you cum quickly so in mellow repose you won’t mind if I slowly savor the skin of your breasts. Then I make you cum again.

If I never touched your nipples you would be pleasured enough, by the mouthfuls of flesh that I greedily suck.

Décolletage isn’t anatomy. It is a world of wonderment and unending joy, from which I never wish to return.