the rush

where did it begin,

was it the hen & gin?

started out

as a quick 

get away,

a time to play,

didn't mean to stay,

yet the heat

of the moment

was an electric shackle

which imprisoned

wanton desire.

as if on fire,

the cadence 

exuded by their lust

thrust them

into a don't look back

scenario.

she envisioned

herself

at a rodeo

doing a do-si-do

on the tip

of his libido.

a few more sips,

past the lips,

and their hips

bucked and dipped

in time to sweaty moans,

such sensual tones,

and they threatened 

to reach the mountain top

together. 

that damn liquor

always made her

give in quicker.

in the morning,

sordid confessions

to the vicar

would soothe

her aching conscience.

but for the moment,

her hunger

was satisfied.

that feeling 

was justified

when she testified 

with a thunderous

climactic roar...

her second encore.

he smiled,

she cooed

they embraced

and the mood oozed

into dying heartbeats

amidst sweaty sheets.

catnip by candlelight

a midday

manifestation of mischief

called to her

and she

acknowledged

the need to feed.

it was naughty

but necessary...

the rumbling,

between thick thighs,

elicited familiar behavior

and a warm sigh

as she succumbed

to devious delights

which reeked

of satisfaction.

curiosity

doesn't kill her cat.

it just purrs

in gentle strains

which soothe

the canine lusts

of her invited conquest.

knock, knock

"entrez vous?"

he brought wine,

to emphasize

the wicked things

he planned to do.

hungry hands

slide

across supple skin

and the festivities begin.

dark room, candlelight

blindfold

to blur her sight,

while he teased

the spots

which begged

to be pleased.

wet kiss fantasies

glide

through licked lips

and create

libido drenched

highs...

church bells chime

at the stroke of three,

releasing

pent up frustrations

finally set free.

a taste,

to savor

her last few drops,

and they drift,

quietly drift...

pink

silent tears

stream

down, down,

lost in the swirl

of rain shower

warmth.

she feels

that part of her

which defines beauty,

sensuality

and desire.

a gentle cup,

press then rub.

her mind wonders

to mama

and what she was told 

to look for.

is it there?

the dreaded thing

which threatens

to pull depression

from the womb

of happiness?

one more time...

this was not the future

laid out

in her best plans.

mouthing prayers,

while soft squeezes soft,

a slow stroll

brings her face to face

with lost hope

and tainted faith.

she curses the woman

who looks back at her.

how could she let this happen?

head in hands,

tired, listless 

emotions

drag her to the kitchen.

one, four, five

shots of tequila,

before glass shatters

against black & blue backsplash.

she hums melancholy coltrane,

dances and twirls

to the syncopated loneliness, 

and collapses

onto cold white linoleum.

with puffy eyes,

pink from indulging denial,

she laughs herself to sleep

and dreams

of black & white yesterdays.

riding the wave of throttled insanity

her music plays...
silky smooth,
spontaneous rips
over syncopated riffs
and shadows
that move in time,
as muddled reminders
in my mind.
i beg release
from the essence
of what draws me closer
to the borrowed
death,
which heckles
relentlessly,
any attempts
to purge my desirous
addiction
to her.
remy and blacks,
she scaled back,
i fear not her evil,
even though
the needle tracks
race up her arm
in droves.
but it's an improvement
over wire tapped lobes.
her music sways...
the skin,
the loco motion
is all i crave.
sweaty loins
and heaving thrusts,
at any given moment,
it's only in her i trust.
my decency has long gone
astray.
her lipstick,
red as the lust
of our indecent
liaison,
leaves wet trails
which ignite
spontaneous eruptions
that feed the corruption
we embrace so true.
emotionless smiles,
powered by her pity
for the creature
she has spawned.
but each body obeys
the rhapsody,
found in heightened
fine tuning,
and soars
in majestic triumph.
her music frays...
yet it will play
again.

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.

adrift on the sensuality curve

sugar coated visuals

spurred 

by torrid bouts

of clandestine wishes,

pulled them 

into a wonderland

filled with decadent delights.

chocolate upon cocoa,

drenched

in a sea of swarming 

undulation and seduction,

their sighs

reach heights

unknown to the naked libido

and the sounds

of rhythmic bed springs

foretell a future

held in limbo.

bound 

through lustful longings

and entwined 

heartbeats,

the pull 

of oneness

saturates wet lips

and sweaty hips 

while roaming hands

dive and dip

into areas that cause

tantric explosions.

dancing together

in a unison 

borne of desire

and fed

through intravenous

hits

which spark 

passion drenched sighs

and melodic cries

before souls

are electrified

in sweet release.

deep into double brown,

the stares 

are returned.

quickened pulse

subsides into 

thump, thump

thump, thump

while angry flesh

screams for an encore.

tongues,

wet with wonderment,

glide across glistening avenues

and reminisce

over the bliss

of majestic memories.

can you see me, papa?

are you watching me?
can you 
see the way
i walk 
and stand,
telling others
that you 
are my beginning?
i can still see those hands...
wringing and gripping,
as you pondered
over things,
that would
become my concern,
later in life.
i can still hear
your laughter,
when
 i watch
the same things
we watched
when i was knee high.
yet now it comes 
from  deep within my soul.
a booming, riotous
imitation
which sometimes
brings tears
to my eyes.
we never
went fishing,
tossed a ball around,
or even
shared a drink
as men...
all the things
that 
fathers and sons
attempt 
to experience.
yet what you did give
was
a lifetime of learning
and fond memories
that i still cherish
eternally.
can you see me papa?
am i the man 
you wanted me to be?
sometimes,
i wring my hands too,
and wish,
with all my heart
i could see you
nod your head
in approval...

oreo fantasy #69

sweet and delicate

a fruit 

which beckons 

to me

spurring pangs 

of want.

yet in my wildest 

moments

i dare not mention

the tasty temptations

that have become

a sultry staple

in my quest

for satisfaction.

black & white

rendezvous

as we twist and turn,

pulling sheets,

exploring

nooks and crannies

that burn 

with the intensity

borne from our greed.

though in honesty,

the cause is

extreme 

and 

simplistic.

a touch,

the mere scent

of  honey and vanilla

translates

to the most basic

urges

and the satiation 

factor

dims all logic.

lost in the swell

only to be

drowned

as a return 

to normalcy

is feeble.

placing a premium

on fine detail,

the odds are perfect

for a tantalizing

romp

through dark fantasies

while libidos

play catch and kiss

with 

cream drenched 

dreams of chocolate delight.

nectar infused wetness,

being suckled

from

 goddess bred thighs.

a black moon rises,

in the twilight of passion

and the vision 

is alive.

a work of art,

nay a masterpiece

set in eternity...

for nothing else 

could be as complete.

urban siren

she knows

the power of the tongue

and uses it well.

driving them insane,

with swerves

and curves

that tickle their

fancies,

her wishes

become the demands

that wreak havoc

with felines 

and canines.

they look down,

as she works her magic,

casting wicked spells

that cause

spills and chills.

uncontrollable gyrations

and palpitations

randomly seize 

cranial 

objectivity

and douse the dreaded

beast

with slippery slurps

and butterfly kisses

that usurp

all rationale

through

unbound ecstasy.

candy licker, 

extraordinaire,

her skills

are renowned,

 setting the standard

everywhere.

yet her golden throat

and enticing smiles

can not hide

the inky blackness

which engulfs

her heart

as she devours

the souls

of her lovers.

a temptress

longing for love

yet finding only takers

who see nothing

more than the entrance

to satisfaction...

she drowns her headaches

in hen

and once again begins

her descent

to remain the best.

night of the suck face

a blood lust

nay

mental extortion,

engulfs 

the only iota

of  resistance

i have left to claim.

from the moment

you were allowed 

to sashay

within my walls,

built by the need

for sanctuary,

we have become

a feuding

enigma

of freudian fantasy

and lurid lust.

we churn

in an embattled 

reality,

laden with conflicted

thirsts and desires, 

that stabs

with unyielding

ferocity.

yet i come back,

i return,

i come back

to the familiar pain

which has become 

a beacon 

for my sordid need.

remaining a slave

to your hunger

has turned my vision

into a blur,

my tomorrows

into hopelessness

and feeble attempts

at escape.

i lie to myself

and yearn,

uncontrollably,

for the insanity

 which gives comfort.

drain the humanity

i've come to loathe

and make me 

a bottom feeder

like you.