Sequel to Chocolat
Slowly softly let’s dance in mid-night silence
Let our breaths draw all the quietude from the moments.
Put your lips down there; (let) your breasts rest on my thighs.
Release me from this storm and settle me between your lips.
Don’t you worry my Quinn; I’ll free you too sooner not later.
I’ll surrender to you; not a bit of your body will miss my breath.
Release me before I lie you down to slide my mouth down.
I’ll kiss the quill on the back beside the strap
Before I free your dark ebony hair
And turn you around to kiss your lips.
I will keep my mouth on the quill
As I undress you slowly.
No, don’t worry when I’ll love you–
I’ll be in front of you; enveloping you–
Letting you moan inside my mouth–
(Letting you) Pull to you by my waist…
My breath of ectasy will fall on the quill;
You’ll have my fingers on you any where you prefer…you choose…
I had been writing this for the challenge that was held by Christine back in May…but, couldn’t submit due to my laptop being out of service…so posting it for the Saturday Midnight series where I’m trying to write Erotic Poem…
The full moon has made her fair skin silver; the beads of sweat seems to be glistening
I looked at her eyes in a never dropped way.
She’s holding me by my waist with her legs
We both were panting, we both satiated.
The summer night breeze hid the moon, her round face becomes hazed one
Is it the moon ate the dark or the dark ate the moon, she whispered in an aloof voice
(And) Before, I can reply she caught my lips and dragged by her teeth
The clutch at waist tightened as I move inside her once more–my hands on her breasts
The moon shone again; trespassing through window
On our naked body and over the bed
When I release. We both moan.
The clutch at waist loosened;
I fall on her breast.
Is it the moon eat the dark or the dark eat the moon, she whispers catching…
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deep down the line
where the locket shines like moon
just in the middle of e’thing & n’thing
I want to lay my breath
on your trembling wet skin.
With soft tender brush of hands–
of yours grasp my hair and place me–
‘ween the décolletage,
where rivulet of your beats rhythm.
I seldom write Erotica. So, from now on every Saturday I’ll try to write one. Any comment, review most welcome.