|
just another (wet) dream [explicit]
by Rachelle Howei took my time.
it was always best that way.
weight upon weight,
i had joined her, then.
lashes fluttered, she bit her lip,
answer to my eager fingers
which hooked in the give of elastic.
she arched, painful and slow;
hips slithering upward
to aid me in my decent.
her stomach,
her thighs,
her knees,
the fabric slid deeper down.
i was lost
in the emotions and wave.
my tongue flicked,
she was warm, so warm.
she was stretched out;
i could have painted
epics with the sight.
my mouth watered,
hands exploring the
intricacies that had made this
the journey of centuries.
(i would make it often, if she'd allow.)
then came that undeniable sound,
the hitch of breath,
the break of ohmygodthisishappening.
it came, it came,
and she was there, spent,
writhing, exhausted.
my work done,
i closed the door
when she opened her eyes. 11/17/2003 Author's Note: ariel, dear ariel is the reason for this. in response to her piece, "apogee." go read it, it's definitely worth a cigarette or three.
Posted on 11/17/2003
Copyright © 2024 Rachelle Howe
| Member Comments on this Poem |
| Posted by Quinlan L Gibson on 11/17/03 at 09:48 PM that's a goodnight story i'd love to hear again and again! Hey cowboy, rustle that mop over here! |
| Posted by Don Coffman on 11/17/03 at 10:05 PM Such a way with words you have, to say the least! I can stop trying to peek in the window now, I suppose. Feh, too bad I'm not a girl. Most excellent, nifty, neato, hot and sizzly stuff, Rach dear! |
| Posted by Mainon A Schwartz on 11/17/03 at 10:13 PM Exactly. (What that means, I'm unsure; it was the only word in response that seemed even semi-coherent. The rest are still lying on the floor like some pair of inert and irrelevant panties.) |
| Posted by Ginette T Belle on 11/18/03 at 01:42 AM lovely... |
| Posted by Trisha De Gracia on 11/18/03 at 06:01 AM Steamy... hmmm.... try so hot that the steam evaporated. keep passing the mop down the comment coloumn, cuz this is soooo tasty. |
| Posted by Lori Johnson on 11/18/03 at 03:59 PM ....and once again, I say....Ooooh La la! LOL
I'm flushed to say the least, but not sure why. ;)
|
| Posted by Leslie Ann Eisenberg on 11/19/03 at 06:52 AM lashes fluttered, she bit her lip,
answer to my eager fingers
which hooked in the give of elastic.
she arched, painful and slow;
hips slithering upward
to aid me in my decent. ,,,, .....i could dine for days on that stanza alone....but must i be alone????? |
| Posted by Max Bouillet on 11/21/03 at 07:26 PM Slow journies are the most pleasurable. There is an excitement attained through forced patience that rarely leaves memory. Great and tantalizing verse. |
|
