Lingerie Literature

This poem is a joint work of me and the insane Smallee (don’t forget to check out her blog, it’s crazy). I hope you enjoy this and share to your friends (if you are bold enough)

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The X:
Day-dreaming that I’m dancing with you
. . . I’ll be your pole,
And
All you have on is a whiff of Eden’s fragrance.
You dig deep into my mind
Causing chaos
Until I’m forced to write a poem about you.

You have your own unique sensual style
You blind and you vivify
You make the front of my trousers a little tight
You can unfasten them if you like
Stay with me, spend the night.

Chocolate Promised Land
Let me let myself go
Let me taste your skin
Reveling in the satisfaction
Of bees drinking nectar

Let’s get really busy

Let me touch you
Where it hurts
Where it burns
Where there are flowing rivers and violent storms

Let me take you over the edge
Over the edge of sanity. . .
Over the edge of my sofa. . .
Burning liquids and flaming tongues.

Curl your upper lip
And ride your tongue over your bottom lip
Then bite down. . .
Arch your back over the sofa
Let me taste you slowly and drown in your waters
Baptismal rites
Let your moans slowly ascend upward
Melting interlocking fingers
Burning liquid and flaming tongues. . .

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Smallee:
Daydreaming that I’m dancing with you
And you’re my pole
All I’ve on is a whiff of Eden’s fragrance.
I dig deep into your mind
Causing chaos
Until you’re forced to write a poem about me.

I can see the front of your trousers getting a little tight
I mentally unfasten them, leaving you in all your naked glory
One whiff of my scent and you’re face deep in my crotch
All I feel is primal need
My fallow hormones being replaced with atomic lust particles
All I want is for you to slam my past into present
The collision sending me into a laboured epilogue of blasphemies.
I curl my upper lip and ride my tongue over my bottom lip
In anticipation of the plunge
And our taut figures aiding one another in intercession:
Reiterating vows of trust.

Touch me, kiss me all over
Then dive deep into my waters
Worship my body
Bow down and submit
Leave souvenirs of yourself on my body
As we’re engulfed my epileptic seizures of satisfaction,
Nothing is sexier than the sound of your loud grunt
As you slam into me on your climax and we’re left with
Melting interlocking fingers,
Burning liquid and flaming tongues. . .

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