THE PLAY, a poem by Curt Farrier
You stand in front of me, fresh from the motel shower
Your light blue robe partially parted
Asking me with your eyes, if I want you
Even if my eyes lied, and said no,
My body would point out the falsehood
Standing, ramrod straight, swollen, and quivering
You turn from me, in your modesty,
But betrayed by your lust, the robe falls to the floor
Beautiful, desirable, fantastic, voluptuous, and perfect.
At my hand’s touch to your waist, you quiver
At my lip’s touch to your neck, you moan
At my head’s touch to your bottom you push backwards
My hand moves from your waist to comb,
Slowly through your dark blonde triangle
Drawn to the heat of my desire, and your gift
My lips move from your neck to press against your ear,
releasing my tongue, to touch, probe,
Pushing into your ear and licking your lobe
My shaft, crushed between us, only quivers
Half into your crack and against my belly
Sending shocks to my mind with each movement
My fingers move over your mound slipping gently inside,
to reemerge wet and glistening
Again, and again, until your breath is quick and sharp
My teeth, move from your ear, gently nibbling your neck
Alternating between tongue and teeth
Tracing lines, then kissing them, biting them
My purple head, pulled back, and forced down
Pushes between your opened cheeks
Then, lubricated by drops of semen forces between us again
My fingers, lubricated by your nectar,
Rotate around your button
Bring you closer, and closer to climax
My teeth come to your shoulder
Open wide and softly bite
A loud moan between panting escapes you
More and more drops are escaping my head
Clear milky white lubrication
As climax moves closer and closer
A deep, near scream, escapes you
My fingers slip inside, moving, probing
Grabbed, squeezed, grabbed again
Mouth, leaving marks in your delicate shoulder
Releases a moan of explosion
As our minds are consumed with release
My shaft, twitching, moving of its own accord
Milky white Semen erupting, pooling between us
To flow across my belly and your back, runs amid your cheeks
Panting, and turning to face me,
Grabbing my hand and leading me to the bed
We begin Act II of our play.
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