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deepundergroundpoetry.com

nestled in your warmth

nestled in your warmth

draped in your skin
i still hear the staccato of your screams in that moment of sheer surrender.

thou shalt not covet thy neighbor's ...

Sunday school words I cannot heed when it comes to you
for I've seen him when he's manhandled you.
grabbing you by your locks and pulling your head back into his will.
teasing you with the whirr and hum of tools and toys at his disposal
so you're separated from all boundaries.
unravelling at his feet  
left naked and convulsing.

be his servant and savior for the moment
your union is written in the bible and Torah alike
but I am the thief John spoke of
so  I do not hold the condemnation of others as sacred.
for it is the chimes within my heart and loins that ring with the saunter and sway of your ample hips.
your doe eyes and warm swirling mouth beckon me
not God's calling.

On this crisp dawn I contentedly spy the two of you through your window  unnoticed.  
I unbutton my trousers to release my throbbing anticipation.
I stroke manically
catching your eye for a moment.
He, as always is too busy to look up
from your deconstruction.

and once again the grass below my feet is saturated with my thick dew.

sated yet anguished
I return home.
running my palms and fingers over
the armor you've constructed for me.
a coat of arms decorated with whaler's toggles and loops.
constructed to in prison my heart and true feelings for you.

As I pass the abandoned hut bordering our properties
I cant help but enter the temple of our sacred rendezvouses.
It is empty save for a lantern.
I inhale deeply seeking the empyrean
scent of your moist juices when you melt on me.
Found.
I'm hard again.
So again I must unfasten and begin to churn my shaft seeking more milk
remembering your warmth and bleating moans.
your supple hips give way to my rhythm and so begins the cackle of the chime.
Quickening my pace.
Leading to my explosion deep in you
And I stagger falling to the dirt floor.

You come to me.

Nibbling at the wooden toggles of my sweater tells me what you now want.
I dig in my trousers for a bit of sweet forbs and feed it to you
And kiss your muzzle.
Ah, my sweet Clara Belle.

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Written for the RANDOM POEMS [2] De POWER [Opium] THREE challenge hosted by Alexander Case.  Defined parameters for contest (round #1) - Genre: erotica; location: empty house and key element: a button.
Written by LobodeSanPedro
Published
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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