deepundergroundpoetry.com
Soft
The feel of your skin is like the surface of a rose pedal on my sensitized finger tips. The moist, aromatic heat of our lips kissing and tongues sliding makes us both shudder. My thighs quiver as we stand in naked embrace. Our bodies can stand a bit more in this embrace as our skin surfaces glide softly against each other and my erection passes from your belly to your mound in joyous circles.
You fold your legs to the bed and pull me toward you. Our bodies lie together writhing gently and grinding as our hands caress in exploration. Kisses become more intense, more warm, more moist. Soft moans, deep breaths and tiny words come and flutter off.
The mental images and sensations have never grown old or faded with age. We are bride and groom every time, rice falling from the folds of our clothing as we hastily remove each layer for the intense pleasures beneath.
My finger just feels the wetness of your folds as it brushes by. It goes back to gently unfold the lips and experience the aromatic nectar as it glides up and down the folds until it finds the pearl. The pearl is the prize.
Your engine is idling smoothly as the pearl is shifted through its gears. Slowly, slowly - not too fast. Savor. Savor. Quiver. Quiver. Stay in first gear as long as reasonable.
The ride to third gear and then to turbo is forever the thrill; the main course before we ride the rough stretch. When the soft trembles turn slowly into violent thrusts of hips quaking, back arching, breast heaving spasms and vocalizations of delight that sound like screams of pain.
The deep-throated growls coming from your depths are accompanied by your beautiful, gaping, sightless cum face right before the heart of the storm. I can see and hear the lightning crashing mercilessly as your body quakes totally out of control. Then, for a moment your body is stiff and still in a state of paralysis.
That is the perfect moment to slide deeply into you, trying to thrust to the center of your beautiful soul. You scream and I thrust. The wetness and vacuum of each thrust sounds like waves of the storm crashing into and coming over the bow.
The screams of climax mix with sounds of the storm and all hell breaks loose. The sounds the agonizing souls of hell accompany the sounds of our own salvation.
The calm waves lap quietly after the storm. Sensitive, warm skin still touch. Beads of sweat and warm breaths accompany the scent of completion.
You fold your legs to the bed and pull me toward you. Our bodies lie together writhing gently and grinding as our hands caress in exploration. Kisses become more intense, more warm, more moist. Soft moans, deep breaths and tiny words come and flutter off.
The mental images and sensations have never grown old or faded with age. We are bride and groom every time, rice falling from the folds of our clothing as we hastily remove each layer for the intense pleasures beneath.
My finger just feels the wetness of your folds as it brushes by. It goes back to gently unfold the lips and experience the aromatic nectar as it glides up and down the folds until it finds the pearl. The pearl is the prize.
Your engine is idling smoothly as the pearl is shifted through its gears. Slowly, slowly - not too fast. Savor. Savor. Quiver. Quiver. Stay in first gear as long as reasonable.
The ride to third gear and then to turbo is forever the thrill; the main course before we ride the rough stretch. When the soft trembles turn slowly into violent thrusts of hips quaking, back arching, breast heaving spasms and vocalizations of delight that sound like screams of pain.
The deep-throated growls coming from your depths are accompanied by your beautiful, gaping, sightless cum face right before the heart of the storm. I can see and hear the lightning crashing mercilessly as your body quakes totally out of control. Then, for a moment your body is stiff and still in a state of paralysis.
That is the perfect moment to slide deeply into you, trying to thrust to the center of your beautiful soul. You scream and I thrust. The wetness and vacuum of each thrust sounds like waves of the storm crashing into and coming over the bow.
The screams of climax mix with sounds of the storm and all hell breaks loose. The sounds the agonizing souls of hell accompany the sounds of our own salvation.
The calm waves lap quietly after the storm. Sensitive, warm skin still touch. Beads of sweat and warm breaths accompany the scent of completion.
Published 24th Dec 2021
Author's Note
My inspiration is my lovely wife who always awakens the beast in me.
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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24th Dec 2021 10:08pm
WOW! Beautiful picture and an immediate UP creator. Thanks and hugs, Oral (o)-(o)
25th Dec 2021 10:18pm
25th Dec 2021 8:32am
These lines made me appreciate the sex scene more:
The mental images and sensations have never grown old or faded with age. We are bride and groom every time, rice falling from the folds of our clothing as we hastily remove each layer for the intense pleasures beneath.
This is a piece that says 'You don't have to be young and supple to enjoy it'.
The mental images and sensations have never grown old or faded with age. We are bride and groom every time, rice falling from the folds of our clothing as we hastily remove each layer for the intense pleasures beneath.
This is a piece that says 'You don't have to be young and supple to enjoy it'.
25th Dec 2021 10:35pm
Thank you for joining us in our intimacy and for your commentary. It pleases me to know you felt it.
26th Dec 2021 7:00am
27th Dec 2021 2:33am
