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

Image for the poem Your Still Wet From the Night Before

Your Still Wet From the Night Before

Your Still Wet From the Night Before  
 
Through the security screen and the heavy oak doors, you dash to disable the alarm. Memories of last night’s pleasant evening float by as heady scented motes; piquant coriander and Spanish onions, sweet opulent butterscotch, and heady seductive Sandalwood. Hmm, you remember lighting the sandalwood incense bombs barely masking the pungent cabbage odor of your neighbors’ cigarillos.  
 
Sensing those too, you decide to latch the screen door but leave the oak door ajar to promote a cleansing airflow.
 
Shoes in hand you luxuriate at the feel of your tired hot feet on the cool ceramic floor tiles. You pop some fasteners and shimmy as your floral print silk summer frock susurrates to the floor. You lean back against the cool plaster walls and sigh at the thrilling contact with your bare back. Wriggling you peel away your thong panties and bundled with the dress you sling them at the laundry hamper as you sashay past the walk-in robe.
 
The tousled bed lays testimony to our early morning lovemaking. You draw my satin boxers to your face rubbing the cool silky fabric against your cheek until a mote of my male muskiness catches in your nostrils. Inhaling deeply to try to rebuild my form from that scent. A stiff patch scratches at your nose and you thrill to note a tear-shaped stain of my pre-cum. Delicately with just the tip of your tongue, you lick at the stain trying anew to rebuild me from these clues. You shiver deliciously as you remember my hardness tenting the shorts this morning and how you led me by this handle back from the in-suite to the bed.
 
Sidling to the window you slowly draw the gauze curtains so that the room is more diffusely lit in the golden light of the afternoon. Easing back onto the futon, you start to caress your body with my boxers; softly slowly intimately. Gently trailing the fabric over your neck and shoulders, heaving bosom, stomach, and flanks and back to your loins.
 
You pass the boxers back and forth between your thighs imagining you are feeling my smooth cheeks brushing by you as I move down to soothe and lick your puffy tingling pussy. Dipping, and probing further you transfer some wetness to the boxers again bringing them to your face and inhaling deeply to catch traces of our mingled scents.
 
Sighing heatedly, you put down those boxers, leaving both hands free for some sensuous self-loving. Slowly you bring both hands down from your face, over your collarbone, and onto your bosom. Here they linger cupping kneading and stroking and then plucking at the rosy proud crests. Then slowly unerringly you bring those hands down across your smooth soft belly and down to the hairy juncture of your loins.
 
You hunker down further drawing your knees up and thighs apart offering up the exposed and puffy morsel to the room and more particularly your clever fingers.
 
The taxi leaves me at the corner of our boulevard. The conference was a bust, the final speaker failed to even show. I was able to swap my tickets for an earlier flight arriving home some three hours early.  
 
Deep in thought, I saunter slowly quietly to our door noting that you were already home.
 
Something stops me from calling out to you. Deciding to surprise you with my early arrival I quietly ease the screen door open, passing through to silently latch it behind. Remembering the sweet oral love, you gave me this morning I secretly hope I could return the favor now.
 
Stepping further into the gloom of the hallway I quietly removed my shoes, socks, suit, tie, and shirt, standing proudly in my cotton jockey shorts.  
 
Hmm, some parts prouder than others it seems as I reach down to untangle and arrange my throbbing swelling cock until it cheekily peers above the waistband. Standing still straining my ears probed the silence of the house trying to learn your whereabouts.
 
A sigh! A moan!! The game was up! I now knew you were upstairs in our room; my imagination running riot at what was eliciting those cries from you!
 
Those clever fingers had discovered your puffy tingly very wet core. With your pelvis tilted way up, two fingers were buried deep inside probing firmly into the engorged dimply mass of your G spot. The fingers of your other hand were paddling rhythmically in a circular fashion on the top of your clitoris. Garbled warbled sighs and cries are coming from your throat as you start to pump hump your hand.
 
Creak! The floorboard at the door! Your eyes fly open to see me in the doorway, naked, fist-pumping firmly steadily on a meaty veiny erection an avid fan of the show laid before me. I motion for you to continue and move on the bed to kneel before your thighs.
 
The sight of your sweet self-loving is intoxicating the scent of your arousal inflames me. I can feel my face flushing, chest tightening, and cool wetness as my throbbing tight cock oozes pre-cum. My pulse pounds in my temples as my fist pounds my purple-headed cock, tighter harder faster.
 
Wet sounds fill the room; the buried fingers oohing in your wetness, my foreskin slurping Ly rolling back and forth across my slick-coated glans.
 
Panting, we urge each other on. “Cum for me baby …I want to feel your hot cum spray across my body… come on baby cum for me … cum baby cum please cum with me!”
 
Hunching over, eyes fixed on your busy hands, fist a blur on my meat.  
 
Everything is tingling. I feel the waves of pleasure crashing over me, shuddering as they pulse through my cock jolting as my seed spurts across your hands and stomach in white ribbons.
 
As you feel the first jets of my cum land your own crisis begins.  
 
Transfixed I watch as your face chest and thighs flush in orgasmic blush. The hand buried in your quim clenches, white-knuckled as I can only imagine the powerful contractions against the invading digits. The other hand twanging fervently brutally on your clit.  
 
Sobbing powerful ragged breaths, you tell me of your pleasure “…ah oh baby!”
 
Lying beside you cheek to cheek, hands stroking your clenched thighs I murmur sweet loving in your ears. The crisis is finally over, eyes open again you gaze humidly into mine. Giggling you reach down to collect my semen and start to massage it into my chest. Laughing I throw myself on top of you and rub myself and this musky creme all over.  
 
Finally, you reach for those boxers and wipe us both clean. You tell me you may never wash the boxers again saying that you never know when you might need further inspiration.
Written by nutbuster (D C)
Published
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
likes 1 reading list entries 0
comments 2 reads 396
Commenting Preference: 
The author is looking for friendly feedback.

Latest Forum Discussions
SPEAKEASY
Today 2:07pm by 13
POETRY
Today 1:58pm by Ahavati
SPEAKEASY
Today 11:29am by Ahavati
SPEAKEASY
Today 11:21am by Ahavati
POETRY
Today 11:17am by lepperochan
POETRY
Today 10:55am by Northern_Soul