“Sleep my love,” I whispered
As she rested on our bed,
Sated from our evening of lovemaking.
A smile hovering over her lips,
Memories of just a few moments ago.
Her nakedness ablaze with glory,
Dappled with my seed and scent.
Her breathing, slow, almost silent.
Her chest rising and falling.
Her soft nipples,
Moving through an arc,
Then retracing their glide,
As her breath exhales.
Her hair fanned out across our pillows,
the white Egyptian cotton contrasting,
With her succulent warmth.
Her beauty, exquisite!
I dampened my lips with my tongue,
Before I danced a rhumba across her reclining form.
As she moved to my ministry, her legs parted,
My tongue traveling to her sea of tranquility,
With a great deal of my own pleasure,
I caused a storm to erupt.
Stealing her sleep,
But feeding her luscious want.
Copyright © This piece is dedicated to anyone who thinks I am writing about them, I am. If something touches you, then take the time to make it yours. These reflections come from moments redeemed from time and space and out of great pleasure. I would be honored if you wish to use my scribbles in whole or part I ask only that you keep the context clear