An erotic poem, from the recesses of time, to celebrate this creation

I want you;
I want to touch you,
               feel you:
Skin over stomach:  sheltering and soft
Up over ribs-- stretched taught and
                         smooth.
warm.  Generous.  And alive against my hand.
Oh, how
 I want you.

I want to take you-- hard and proud--
           to put you in a warm, wet place

curved lips over teeth
tongue flicking down
with slight pulsing
            (and suction)
and suction, to sudden engulfing,
to working slowly back up;
to lips holding firm--

Stopping at the top.
            working slow circles
and a plunge
        not deep but satisfying:
                   hand working up, mouth working down,
                   coming together with practiced unity

then no hand.  Just warmth (pleasure), farther, deeper;
          stopping briefly to slide and tease one
          place and then another, farther, closer
                       to the base
          sliding a little faster. And then encompassing:  two
times, three times.  And then release.

Slowly working my way back up:  trying not to let the feeling fade--
I like to feel that delicate manifestation of strength within.






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