Sex In The Morning

By | October 8, 2011

OK before you read this here are some ground rules. I don’t do poetry, I’m crap at it, so if this sucks, you have been warned. It doesn’t rhyme, it doesn’t scan as well as I’d like but Suze likes it. Please let me know what you think. Be brutally honest and with any luck I will not inflict any more of the same on you .

The comforting greyness of my dreamless repose
is slipping from me.
The harder I grasp it
the more ethereal it becomes.
Fragmenting before my unconscious mind
as I try to immerse myself once again
in that pool of grey oblivion.
Rising from the oily embrace of sleep
I feel the acuteness of the real world waiting for me.

But what awaits is not the cruel unwelcome caresses of a workday
but a weekend morning.
Not the grey monotony of my salaried slavery
but the golden aurora of my woman’s love.
Enveloping me, comforting me, exciting me.

The hour is late, spring sunlight dancing on my still closed eyelids.
My lover’s hand strokes my cheek.
It lingers briefly before tracing an orange path to my inner thigh.
There she teases my softest of skin with her tenderness.
My sex is moving, swelling, expectant. My balls are rising, tightening, tingling.

Her hand enfolds me, deftly, firmly.
Her tongue wets my nipple, lithe and slippery.
Her breath betrays her, desire dammed.
Her cataract is cracking, crumbling

The serpentine track of her tongue has only one destination.
Her intent is obvious, yet no less welcome for that.

The first touch of her tongue on my glans solicits a shudder
from deep within me.
Her hand grips my balls, gentle, but immovable.
Each arch of my back, each wriggle and squirm I make
pulls against my shackled scrotum.
Steel-white flashes streak across me as I struggle.

She devours me
ever deeper.
Tongue ceaseless in its movement
dancing, cavorting, making my body tremor.
Teeth rake, lips squeeze, tongue palpates.

The glowing ball of my climax begins, deep in my groin.
A golden ball, crossed with green and blue.
There’s no holding it back, she knows how to please me too well.
It blossom, erupts, transforms into the shimmering pebbles of my orgasm .

I gasp, buck, thrash as I pump my seed into her throat.
She holds me down, taking every drop of my essence.
And in the swirling afterglow, eyes closed,
my only sensation is that of her tongue lapping at tingling cock.