Content Warning : Do you want to continue?
This poem contains content which some readers may find disturbing.
It is unsuitable for children or anyone who is easily offended.

YES
I am over 18 years old, I have been warned and I still want to read this poem.
NO
I don't want to read this type of content, take me back to the previous page.


deepundergroundpoetry.com

Sandstone Sunset

Pink Sandstone set in a sea of fire.

As far as you can see from one of the Dessert Pearl Cabins, this is the scene.  The pink of the rock, with its iron ore, stands in contrast to the blue skies, with their mascots of white mists floating by.  Streaks of black point to the ground from each mesa we look at, as the oxidized iron in the rock leaves a tell when the waters flow when the rain falls.  On the valley floor there are patches of white – left over islands of salt form the condensed waters pools of the flash storms that can hit the region.  One such storm will be hitting soon.  One more powerful than mother nature could provide sans human lust.  
The cabin we are in is so rustic on the outside, was a modern paradise internally.  The king sized Divan bed, with its sheets earthy-colored was plush, yet firm.  Resting overhead on the walls around the room were decorations of the southwestern motif:  Clay jugs, and jars made by the local Hopi people with their proud heritage.  The pottery was half blue-glazed with etchings and engravings of stick animals, and symbols of nature that the Hopi have been honoring for thousands of years.  A painting that combined oils and different colored types of sands rests over the kitchen area where the sun can highlight early in the mornings through the vaulted windows facing the east.   The cool tile floors, tanned by fires not the sun, have been inlaid with local stones of various green, and blue colors that have been sliced in half and placed flat side up, and arranged to represent the river outside, as it flows through our cabin.  
We find ourselves outside on the balcony, next to the hot tube that is set down into the balcony part-way, watching the sunset bounce happy thoughts off of the sandstone cliffs that rise straight out of Americana memory of the old west.  The river below us emanates from between canyon walls ending not 200 feet from us.  A lovely green glow from the copper in the minerals rests in the sands below the moving waters.  It is same soft green as that of the ocean, without the frothiness of the waves.  Instead, a smoothness of ripples flowed like candy in the taffy machines in the county fairs back east.  Near the green waters flowing out of Zion National Park in Utah, the pink blossoms of the cherry trees were floating into the short grass of the washed river banks.  
Shading our balcony without impairing the view was a large oak where birds chipped and bounced from branch to branch as they announce the day’s end.   Mimosas in hand, we sip the ambiance as much as the golden refreshment after a day admiring mother nature in the park, with its many trails.  We showered the day’s dust away separately, though our thoughts were on the sensuality inspired by nature around us:  The feeling; the beauty; the power – all of them rolled together in a sea of passion only nature would dare canvass.  
While the day ‘s activities left us each hungry, so we had stopped earlier at Pablo’s Cafe that served delicious Mexican food.  We ate light. You enjoying the scotch, while I sampled the local tequila.  We left the brightly colored Café full, but not stuffed.  We wanted to make sure our appetites were sated in a fuller way.
As we sat there soaking in the sun’s reflections in the beauty around us, your hand being mimosa-cooled reaches for mine, and slowly strokes my wrist.  My fingers respond like the garden flowers by the river, each of us reaching for our sun.  My fingertips find the smooth touch of yours, and they begin playing together as I feel your index sliding between the knuckles of my hand.  Your glancing look from the corner of your eye mirrors mine.  I feel the sun’s burning in your sideways glimpse.  As your hand finishes its way with my fingers, and begins a light tracing of the back of my hand, I instinctively raise my hand to meet treat the lips of my mouth with the succulent pleasure of your skin.  Fresh from the shower, yet still a little salty from perspiration seductive.  My tongue joins the fun as flutters of kisses land effortlessly on your tannedness.  
Taking a last sip of the mimosa, you set the empty flute on the table of colored-glassed mosaics of deer that is encased between two layers of clear glass, giving the scene a three dimensional look.  Your flute slides a little, as your fingers glance it’s stem in your eagerness to continue where we are going.  You stand, and the already kimono-style short robe that was flowing over your body like the green currents flowing around the pink rocks in the river below, falls to the floor.  Your entire body beams golden, thanks to our naked sunbathing that we have been doing high in the mountains.  Where bronzed skin meets nipple, the delicate texture of passion as advertised in my dreams, raises upon the islands of your Areolas.  
My eyes float over your body beautiful, as the clouds over the earth.  The mystic ties of heaven to earth connect within me.   My body paralyzed in lust.  My mouth agape, speechless.  How can I talk when I find it so hard to breath in your presence?  You solve this be giving the breath of life.  You bend over, your breasts swaying, and you exhale your love in your kiss.  Breathing resumes through moans uttered.  The passions of a thousand years around use echoes in loves touch.  The ultimate touch, as the pressing of lips in balanced love, simply is.  Your hand curls around my head as I my hands travel up your sleek arms.  You straddle my body on the futon, without even bothering to unwrap my present.  You know what lies beneath will soon emerge, and has already begun to rise as I feel you pressing on my silk bathrobe.  Our passion is as deep as our kisses.  Our hands exploring each other:  Yours ramble about my head, then push my robe off of my shoulders, as mine alternately hold your ass, and travel up your back so lightly they draw the arc from you from time to time, as your head whips back in pleasured electricity, only to return to be grounded into my body.  
A fulcrum for your pleasure I gladly become, as your hips grind on my throbbing stick.  My robe falls open as your hands plant themselves on my chest; our foreheads rest together as your cunt lips envelope my cock.  I look down and see the head of my dick playing peek-a-boo with me, disappearing, then appearing, time and again from between your pubis pleasurably.   My dick is glistening with your lubrication of love.  Your back arches a little in response to my fingers sliding down your back, and as you do, my mouth instinctively finds a hard nipple resting on its tongue.  With a flicker of energy, I send a gasp of life from you into the breeze flowing over us.  I pull on your cherry-topped breast with sucking energy while reaching around your ass to feel the moistness I am traveling to taste.  My long finger finds the spot, and dips his head into you.  As I wiggle, I feel your ass push a little on it, so I try harder to reach, and finally bury my finger into your pussy from behind all the way to the hand.  As I finger fuck you, you slide up and down on my dick.  The feelings roil and roll inside you as you increase your hips thrusts, when out of the blue your muscles flash-contract in a tremble of eye-squinting pleasure.   Your finger nails leave their impression of what love is as they dig into my shoulders.  I wait for your return trip from the O-zone layer of love before I replace my finger with a larger appendage.  
ne thrust.  One gasp.  Your beautiful brown eyes meet my blue.  We kiss as we grind a little.   I then gather your legs under my arms, a I gather your silk belt simultaneously.  And with that, I stand with you impaled on my cock.  We slowly fuck-walk into the bedroom through the open atrium doors.  With every step, I bounce you a little harder off of my thighs.  With every step, your hips become a little wilder, and my balls become a little more wet.  Finally, at the bed we pause.  I feel you contracting your pussy walls around my cock.  “Holy Fuck!”, I cry out.  I just stand there and take it for a few, but then I need to really pound the flesh, so I hoist your ass on and off my rod, while at the same time thrust up to increase the pressure on that tight pussy. The slapping of flesh is all that is heard.  That is until you begin to groan.  And your groans turn to moans, and then into screams of delight as a tsunami of orgasms crashes into your shoreline carrying you into temporary oblivion.  You float there in the aftermath of undulations and contractions in the warm orgasmic ocean.  
It is only after you come to your sense do you realize that I have laid you on the bed.  You are still gasping – trying to catch your breath from that last monstrous upheaval of hormones, when you look down and see my head bobbing up and down in your crotch.  My tongue staying still while my head is going as a frenzied feeding fest on your swollen labia.  Your clit is engorged, and I hit it right.  I know this because your body jerks.  As my tongue washes over this pleasure button, your hands seek out my scalp.  Again and again I suckle on this very special property.  Again and again, you let out little gasps, and squeals.  My finger finds your cave, and probes deep, as a continue to devour your treat.  I made sure to wet the digit thoroughly before pushing it into your asshole ever so gently.  Your hips rise a little as you grunt, and yelp.  When those same hips return to the mattress, the finger is fully engulfed.  I stay there a moment.  Still.  Waiting.  Then I feel it ever so gently:  your hips seem to pulse. I then move the finger in and out slowly, and listen to the moans that turn me on.  I am already hard as a rock, and can barely contain myself.  I move the finger a little faster, and begin to groan on your clit.  Vibrations I feel on my finger in your ass, as I struggle to control your hips that buckingly give the sign of yet another orgasm.  “Oh, shit”, you say as you collapse.  
But we’re not done.  I bring out the silk belts from our robes.  And tie your hands together:  one to each side, leaving your legs free and flexible.  I now climb into you ever so slowly.  I let the shaft rest on your pussy.  I feel the warmth and wetness.  We slip and slide together as we kiss – out tongues engaged in combat.  You are winning.  
My head finds your opening in your tilted hips, and immediately I plunge in.  holy shit, it feels so good.  The warm wetness of a woman, of my woman.  There truly is nothing like it in the universe.  
I take one of your tits into my mouth as I begin pressing the attack.  Harder and harder I try to breach.  The slapping flesh is silent between our grunts and moans and groans and yelps of pleasure.  At once, I pull out.  “You Bastard!”, you yell.   I smile, as I reposition for the reverse-X position.  Lying face down, my feet over your shoulders, and my head at your feet, I bend my dick down to enter you.  This is like fucking from behind, only with my pressure for your pussy.  
I enter pussy, and you immediately feel the pressure near your ass.  I now begin pumping my ass up and down.  You look down and can see my balls bouncing. They are soaked with your pussy juice, as is the glistening shaft that is appearing and disappearing inside of you.  I now change my strokes.  Instead of up and down, I now curl my body.  This increased pressure elicits screams from you laced with reassurances to continue.  Continue, I do!   Again and again!  Your climaxes hit the third time in this position when I can feel myself giving into you.  My cream is unloaded in a heaving gulp, your body drinks me in whole.  I scream and tense my body, and I feel your contractions so loving in their completeness to suck up every drop.  We take a moment to recover in that position before I untie you, and while playing with your hair kiss your gently for all that you mean to me.  More than the beauty of the pink sandstone, or the sunset burning.  More than the beautiful green river.  
What is there that can match the love of a woman?  
Handcuffs
Written by Handcuffs (et al)
Published
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
likes 0 reading list entries 0
comments 0 reads 600
Commenting Preference: 
The author encourages honest critique.

Latest Forum Discussions
SPEAKEASY
Today 1:10pm by Ahavati
COMPETITIONS
Today 1:10pm by Ahavati
COMPETITIONS
Today 1:09pm by Ahavati
COMPETITIONS
Today 10:59am by _feral
COMPETITIONS
Today 10:15am by slipalong
POETRY
Today 9:49am by Northern_Soul