blindfolded too.
Flat on his back,
ready for her.
She circles and waits, heels striking the floor.
The night is dark, wind is warm;
scented by perfume.
It's stroking his nose.
What is she wearing,
he no longer knows.
Leather or lace, he's in for a show.
With pleasure comes pain:
the flick of the whip,
or drip drip of wax.
He nails dig deep when the couplings complete.
She lowers the blind,
but all he can see,
are flashes of thigh.
His smile is wry.
Like the cat she crawls, on bed,
over him.
A purr on her lips,
whilst he licking his.
The blind comes down, as all else is up.
He sees her before him,
a fantasy come true/
Unbound she's undressed,
his fingers aren't quick.
They get what they give;
taste, touch and sight.
Stroke, lick or flick; posture, poise or bend.
Time for consumption, each other they devour.
Sated they awake,
In silence they dress:
no numbers, no names.
To the kink they'll return,
on hot sweaty nights.
When the blood is just right...
No comments:
Post a Comment