The Dame

Maxwell Private Investigation
Manhattan, New York

   
This sexy dame walked into my office, confidence as can be  
Looking good from her head down to her pedicured feet  
Toned legs stuffed in pair of black stilettos  
Dainty fingers brushing back brunette curls, sexy as hell, if she didn’t already know  
    
“Good morning Mr. Maxwell and thank you for the short notice for us to meet.”  
His hand in my hand was warm upon the initial greet  
    
“You may have a seat.”  
Her breasts spilling over a drooping silk blouse, images of a tongue lapping feast  
Crossing her legs, her voice, like a melody, of a siren’s song  
Glimpses of the black satin thong, she had on  
Causing me to shift in my seat for my arousal coming fast and strong  
    
“Can I help you ma’am.”  
Looking sweeter than honey, wicked thoughts if under my BSDM bedroom thrilling commands    
    
Yes, I would like to arrest someone’s mind.  
The pen dropped out my hand, a broad with revenge with too much time  
Is this a female, male  
A man who is accused of telling such extraordinary sensual tales  
    
“These tales you state, could you be more specific.”  
    
He wines and dines my mind, having me floating on a Heavenly drift  
Aching for him to blanket my soft lips  
Suckling, gently tugging at my nipple tips  
Whispering naughty sentiments in my ear  
Handsome, robust, and I feel his presence even when he is not near    
I need to sequester that gift  
    
“But why, when it’s a contribution with such sensational tantalizing hits.”  
    
I take it you have never fell hard for a poet’s mental dick  
The lengthening of his creative soul, thrusting deep inside my psyche gist    
As if he’s between my thighs  
Caressing my mind, tenderly making love to its core until the calling of sunrise  
Fingering myself, massaging my clit  
Pulling my soft folds back as if he’s taking a sniff    
Sending me on a mental trip  
Parting my thighs wider for a soft pinkish lick  
    
I cleared my throat, and looked this dame in her soft smokey eyes  
Wondering why, and if she was serious in her confession to be considering such a demise    
    
“What would you like me to do with this poet’s intellect, which you say makes you melt.”  
    
I have not thought that far in advance, this is the first time I’ve ever felt  
“Love?”  
No, that is an emotion ordained and given solely from above  
This is such a beautiful feeling when the sensations of his words fit inside me like a tight glove  
His rhymes are very seductive, it gets me wet, the metaphors, mmm the climatic sublimes  
Such alluring sexual illusions, while seducing my mind, keeping it flowing like the sands of time  
Mental loving me so smooth, intoxicating, he’s my intellectual muse  
The carnal bliss of my nakedness he writes about like he’s in my bed  
Coveting the fetish thoughts of us dancing inside my head  
    
“Is that such a bad thing.”  
To make mental love to a sultry Queen  
Whispers of love, embraces to make her moan, scream  
To be the cause of any man’s wet dream  
    
Then add your name to my list  
I see you can make me want you, pulsating my clit  
Needing, wanting you to dip deep inside my sapiosexual creamy slit  
Pulling me closer with each expressive desired twist  
Mm… you just made me wet and then cream  
    
“See we poets are not that bad as we seem.”  
A poet, I asked  
    
“Yes, my second passion I must rehash.”    
Allow me to take this case as we cum together to mental thrash  
The only poet who’s nutt drips over that tight body and ass  
Where our reality will be words, our bodies can blend as we bask  
    
I suppose I’ll see you next week  
After this first meeting, I’m sure you shall be pleased  
Laying in my sheets, my words canvassing over you, with each touch, tease  
    
My scent bathing all over you  
I take the sole responsibility of being your newest mental muse  
    
You got the job  
    
It will be my pleasure to make you gag, choke,  and slob  
Out the door she went, leaving me in awe  
Thoughts of me deep inside her had me consumed  
As easy as she came, expensive perfume lingering has not dissipated the room    
    
I looked back at my handsome temptation  
Mm… to be the illicit cause of his stretch of imagination  
Licking my lips in the sweetest anticipation  
Mm… a male poet and when they have a sweet poetess’ thoughts on lock  
Seductive words to make my sweet cherry cave and then pop  
Then trickling, tasting me in every drop  
  
The Dame