the request

she asked me

what i did 

and i told her

that my words 

were the essence

of things to come.

she smiled...

"you're a writer?"

i smirked,

returned a slow nod

and sat on the edge

of the bed.

"show me..."

she clicked

the switch

for some

boney james,

lit a candle

and dared me

to go insane,

on the supple sensuality

she bared for my pleasure.

threw my hat 

and leaned back,

with the stealth

of a lioness

she attacked

my ego.

shirt ripped,

neck nipped,

sweat sipped...

then she was flipped.

because she wanted me

to show her.

piston dances

while slow grinding

advances

us towards the peak

she so eagerly seeked

when challenging 

my physical muse.

legs wrapped in carnal

delight

as moans drenched

in ecstasy 

play a sinister game

of tag with her lips.

we feel the drip, drip

of her upon me

and prepare 

for the glory

she wanted to see.

scratched back,

rhythmic headboard.

a push back,

she was on board.

...and the fire died.

embers,

burning at the end 

of a filter-tip,

as she remembers

i'm a writer.