[Mister Saint]: 79.mature.after work

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2008-01-17 08:43:25
1. Back Home

An endless day, an orange sky,
the voyeuristic setting sun
has had her fill of you, and I.
At work, you count the passing seconds.
Tick, tock, tock, tock,
the purple seconds streaking off
to gather someplace else.

Your aching feet expel the shoes
that choke them in a workday grip.
You toss aside your cap
and deftly snap your button's clasp,
listening to your zipper's golden teeth;
they open, groaning,
moaning like a clockwork queen
in jolting throes,
in ecstasy beneath your touch.

A bath sounds just divine.

2. Cleansing Tuesday Away

Enveloping, the shimmering sheen
breathes clouds of steam between your lips.
Playful bubbles foaming
lick the curved rims
along the tub, the sensual smell
of fresh spring rain in a bottle.

You wet your fingertips to test
the warmth.
As right as rain, you chuckle,
thinking no one else would laugh
but now you're out of damns
to give them

You hook your thumbs and tug
the cotton down, the ground
accepts your holy gift
of panties, shorts, and bra, and shirt.
The rolling vapor slithers
over every inch of you,
it pinks your cheeks,
it licks your neck.

You dip your toes into the foam.

A bath sounds so divine.

3. A Gift You Give Yourself

The night descends with pleasant warmth.
You radiate a soft refreshment
glowing warm from the bath.

You rest so sweetly, glowing,
naked on the sofa's cushioned bed.
Your hands enfold your creamy breasts
and knead them,
and forth.

A shivering tingle tickles
all along your scented skin,
as though he runs a youthful rose
along you.

Your eyelids slowly close.
Imagination takes the helm
and lets you dream of flower petals
petting from your belly to your chin.

4. Him

You feel his arms surround you
and you wear him like a favorite cloak--
cuddled in for warmth that's not your own.
Your fingers twisting gently at your nipples,
his as well, that tickling shock.
You feel him nuzzle, wetly suckle,
stroke your pinkness pinker than it's ever been before.

You know he wants to hear you say
the way he makes you feel.
"I love your hair," you whisper through
those spilling coal black curls,
and urge him "lower, lower, lower."

His slippery kisses slick the way
around your navel, pulled
into a shallow oval when you stretch
your arms above your head
and slowly spread your glistening legs.

"I wants your lips," you purr, "I want
your tongue to whip me, drip me
on the sofa's edge.
I want to feel your face between my legs."

The salt-sweet scent is yours alone,
the taste of sex that pours between your folds.

His fingers twist and dip
within your soothing, steaming lust.
Your voice can only sigh the sound
of sex, of liquid satin trickling
down between your glowing thighs.
His kisses bathe your sensual flesh...

This bath is so divine.

5. Dialogue

You slip a pillow underneath your neck
protecting from the shock you want to come.
"Please, no more," your moist lips murmur,
answered by his gentle smack and slurping suckle
welling up between yours thighs.

His lips surround your sweetest dish.
Excitement threads your fingers
through his silksoft waves of hair.
Your senses twirl and swirl
and roll in golden dust, flicking
in and out of there and now.
Your shoulders shiver,
nestled firmly in his arms,
as close as you can squeeze to him
like suckles squeeze to skin.
His hair adores your forehead
and his kisses taste like violet,
mixing pungent wine and woman.

You feel a streak of heat against your belly,
hardness sliding rough across your skin.
"In," you whisper breath between his lips,
"I want it in, it's mine, it's mine!"

Pressure joins the gentle, juicy pain.
Pumping ice and fire,
he parts your lips like lightning splits
the sultry summer clouds,
and moves your throbbing heaven
with his thick, delicious earth.

You coil your knees around his waist.
"More," demanding, "more, and more!"
His body shines with boiling sweat
and slips against the sheen that coats your skin,
you cling and kiss and grind inside
to grip him deep within and squeeze him,
clenching, nearly forgetting
to breathe.

You suck a torrid gasp of air
your muscles, throbbing, knot and twist
and wrench him,
drenching honey flowing,
coating him with streams of you.
Your scream delays, your silence
burning, aches beneath the wake
of shudders, shoving out and in and out,
you burst and arch your back,
and scream, and cream, and shriek.

A lava flow, a glistening glow,
you wring him, gleaning every final juicy drop
until his rhythm slows to stop
and then you grind some more.
The tightness fades, you slip away
your legs from 'round his back.
His muscles spent, his face and neck
descend between your breasts
and kiss for lack of strength for other things.
You stroke his hair, so wet with sweat
and hold him still inside, breathing slowly,
fluttering like a feather
coming down.

6. Open Wide Your Blissful Eyes

You sigh, and smile, and realize
you'll need another bath
to cleanse away this Tuesday night.
The scent explores your senses
as your eyelids lift, your fingers kissed
by you, and though it's only you at home,
your tingling, soaking center
knows you've never been alone.

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