[Mister Saint]: 79.Mature.Red Strips

The Red Strips


The bubbly wetness
warm on your lips,
your gentle, surrendering kiss.
The pressure of pressing
you, nude to the bed,
is ours.

Right,
My fingertips twist
into mounds of your hair,
pain slipping, sliding
deep into pleasure.
Into and out;
Left,
My fingertips lick
through the hair on your mound
and kiss where the wet makes a sound.

Slapping
my palm whips your cup,
a lash and a trickling suck.
You squish, flow, and pool--
I kneel,
and I drink from you.
We kiss, lip to lips
to hips
and back.


You'd fight if you could,
but the red strips twist
to your wrists
and you're mine.

My teeth kiss your thighs.
You suckle the sky
for a drop of breath,
and I breathe from you.