Red and black licorice - whips. Paddles. Riding crops. Fur-lined handcuffs. Nipple clamps. Role play. BDSM. Long, wet meaningful kisses that never end. An unexpected hot and sexy phone call or text message in the middle of the night, early morning, or late afternoon. Sleeping till noon after drinkng too much...champagne. The lime, the salt and the tequila shot. The first taste of cold beer when the foam tickles your lips. Hot bubble baths with a really good friend (s). Candles and candle - wax drippings onto delicate places. Multiple vibrations when riding on a train. Multiple anything. Deep, depth, dark. Film noir and spine-tingling murder mysteries. Writing a story and hearing the rain. Dark, rich chocolate covered body parts. Nasty, naughty, dirty...things. Crumpled, tangled pillows and sheets; stained from sweat and cum. Chipped, red nail polish.
A lonely black bra strap that slips off your arm. The touch of pussy willows and the name of forget-me-knots. Tall red, ankle-length boots and black stilettos pressed up against a bedroom wall. Garter belts that snap and fishnets in every color that seductively roll down an exposed thigh. Three days of unshaven places: bristle, prickly, tickly, rough and raw when it meets pink, soft and tender - Oooh la la! Dimples on chins, cheeks and knees. Looking in between the cracks and scratching under-neath....
Just be... thankful -
Neve
p.s. The image of the Mata Hari above can be purchased here via Etsy.
2 comments:
this is another excellent poem.
Let's talk about line breaks.
I guess it has that sing-song poem feel to it, huh?
Line breaks, wh@?
Thanks for reading and posting.
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