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CEO and founder of Wurdzpoet, Inc. 

Tuesday, September 10, 2013

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.

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