Firm soft breast with harden pink nipple,
Surrounded by a fluid grip,
Temps the tip of a pink tongue;
Moist heat surrounds it’s sides,
As sweeping kisses,
Start gasping moans,
A Nonet Poem: A nonet has nine lines. The first line has nine syllables, the second line eight syllables, the third line seven syllables, etc… until line nine that finishes with one syllable. It can be on any subject and rhyming is optional.
I crave it…
I feel it
I feel the swelling of my desire while I watch the parade of suggestions and possibilities.
I sense it
I sense the tingling sensation as I feel myself lengthening, fighting the fabric that attempts to constrain me.
I want it
I want to find a place, a moment, so that I can free myself, so I can look down at the swollen pride of my arousal. So I can marvel at how it feels as I wrap my hand around it and begin to stroke myself thinking of you.
I need it
I need you, your thoughts and your temptation while I continue to swell, more sensitive with each stroke.
I savor it
I savor the tightening of my balls, the obscene fullness of my cock as I dribble clear droplets that tell me I am ever so close; clear rain that makes my length shimmer and glisten; that clings like dew on my fingertip.
I crave it
I crave the tension that is impossible to ignore, my whole body tightening, the urge stronger than my will as I await the first pulse, the first stream of the pearly reward that you inspire. I crave the release, the warm pearly puddle in the palm of my hand, the decedent mess that begs for more.
Eyes focused on her thick creamy chocolate thighs
Moments before my body slid between them, to capture my prize
At her front door, my hand hand steadied the full length of my size
There was no surprise to me, how much resistance she had inside
After my size fell deep inside her wet well, her lungs moaned out a cry
Firm round soft breast held tight, as I prepared myself for one hell of a ride…
Photo reblogged from http://temptingsweets99.tumblr.com/
Hmm, I love it when you touch me… There…
Softly ease across the slushiness of my folds,
Comb through the dampness of my hair,
Just before you skinny-dip into the wetness of my wake…
And how you make me feel all so exuberant, when you playfully dive into the heat of my current,
Then hold your breath as you linger in my depths…
What I love most about you,
You never mind when I call out somebody else’s name,
When it’s you that’s holding me tight, while we sexually dance,
In the cramp darkness of my womb…
Like hail his hand rained down
on malleable buttocks
each smack echoing in her ears
as cheeks grew fiery hot
ablaze in heated fury
her wetness dappled
down silky shaven thigh
until softly she began to cry
wolfgang parker 3 via dr-sophie.deviantart