Too Much

Surrendering

Surrendering involves trust, fear, a discomfort as you are exposed further than you ever expected when you began this journey.

The Culmination of Assurance

It is the after. After the surrender. The taking. The sweet ravaging with all its pain and desire. After the orgasm. and the next orgasm and the last, forced orgasm, and we are both spent, and we fall together in silken tenderness, so sure of our love we could weep, this, the after, the culmination of assurance.

What Only I Hear

Cry out. Shout. Gasp. Writhe.

Here you are mine and no one will hear your fear, your surprise or your surrender. You are mine. Now and forever.

I love when one of my poems from my deleted blog finds me!

Always Balancing

Every night we are together is dangerous, always balancing pleasure and pain,  enough and too much,  love and lust.

The Problem With Fantasies

The problem with fantasies is that I tend to make them realities and you may end up getting exactly what you thought you wanted, whether you wanted it or not.

The Moment You Were Mine

What was done or not done. What boundaries were crossed, and where pain and pleasure merged until each was forgotten, replaced by something more than either, consumption, writhing as one caress built on the next, And then, the perfect, most memorable moment of release.

I still carry that image, your face and soul lost to my touch, mine in the moment. Mine in eternity.

Another of my poems from my banished blog. I love finding these!

Timeless Night

A little laughter. A little conversation. A bit of flirting. The gentlest of foreplay. Time. Or perhaps timelessness. Paying no attention to it, only each other, with an intensity that is gradual, like crabs in a pot, the heat rising slowly, the dance growing, more and more frantic, the heat suddenly all, passion, and more, life turned to a desperation for each other, for penetration, need, until finally, the little death in a cry and overwhelming. Gasps for breath. until it begins again. A little laughter in our timeless night.

I love finding my poems from my banned poetry site.

Not So Certain

Trust. One step further, then one step more, certain, but not so certain there is not a shiver at the touch of something unexpected, sharp as a knife, dangerous, and tender both.

Another poem from my old banished blog. Thank you all who saved and share these.

Unconventional

Who every made you believe, lied. Just because no one else has appreciated the curls or the curves or the drive or the emotions and all the beautiful abnormalities that set you apart, does not mean I am wrong in how I see you. It simply means, at long last, after a lifetime of settling, neither of us need to.

So bear yourself to me, one more time. Show me the flesh that is mine. Let me love you with all the tenderness of a night with wine and conversation before we break out the whips and the chains each of us finding satisfaction finally, without limits, unconventional, and so right.

To The Man Whose Cum is In Her Mouth

You have it all wrong, thinking I have share her with you. Oh no. I have instead gifted her with your cock. A bit of pleasure, different enough to excite her, a fulfilling of her fantasies, with you as the bit actor, large enough, polite enough, willing to follow instructions, able to be watched without wilting, a man who appreciated what she is, from her curves to her breasts, to her uncommon tightness, and of course, her ability to take, even you, beyond her throat. No, she was not shared. What we have goes beyond anything you felt. Trust me. I know. We have done this before with different actors. And we will do it again.

I do not have to tell you how satisfying you were. Her orgasm tells that story. We are both glad you were all you advertised. All you promised. Too many are not. And now, should you see her on the streets of the city, you will know what lies underneath, what it feels like inside her, So tight it is like a fist grabbing and pumping, yet warm and slick and hungry. You will know her throat, all of it. And you will know me, beside her. taking her night after night, feeling all you felt, and more. Feeling the heart that makes her, her. Mine.

No my friend, she was not shared. You were given to her. That, and nothing more.