Friday, October 8, 2010
The evening was a whirlwind -
we were all frenzied and taut,
bodies shaking and grinding
with none of those wasted moments
of precious and too little time.
Tomorrow would come, but tonight
my longing for you became a desire
to hold you close and press my lips
to your rich black-diamond skin.
I slipped my tongue into your wet
essence, delving into the dark
depths of your liquid delights.
My pulse quickened as your fluids
rushed over my palate
like a Jamaican waterfall
of melted creamy caramel sin.
I swallowed the first crescendo of
satisfaction and reached for you
again and again and again,
until my need was sated
and I switched to decaf.
For those of you not yet familular with Jolen Whitworth's poetry, her Website is a must!