Arousal

The twilight had descended when I woke;    
I sensed his lips were resting in my hair;      
His kisses carried me like fiery smoke      
To a warm place, when he could strip me bare,      
He found I lacked resistance to his need;      
And knew, already, my turf was not dry;      
Aware of dampness, he would plant his seed,      
Once he had thrust in deeply to supply      
The presence I desired, without speaking;      
Or any hint of wishes to be met:      
A want to feel him fucking - not a weakling -      
But potent, masculine and keen to get      
His satisfaction, through our slow carousal,      
Once he woke me, assured of my arousal.