THE BARONESS

The Baroness  
threw off her dress  
of finest silk,  
creamy like milk,  
sidled to me  
in lingerie  
of deepest red  
that turned my head.  
 
Each leg rose high  
to a toned thigh,  
breasts, uplifted  
in bra, shifted  
as she rolled hips.  
She puckered lips,  
Her blonded hair,  
loose, framed the stare  
from warming eyes.  
Smile did arise.  
 
She would not let  
me e'er forget  
the debt I owed  
which, in her code,  
I did now  pay -  
weekend away  
with my body  
the currency.  
 
She embraced me  
inflamingly,  
gave a pleased moan  
at feel of tone  
of abs and chest  
under my vest.  
My underpants  
had not a chance  
as one hand strayed  
and on me played,  
making a wood  
of my manhood.  
 
She pushed pants down,  
gave kiss to crown,  
leaving lipstick  
upon my dick  
when up she stood,  
to leave me nudd  
when off she pulled  
my vest (fine wooled).  
 
"It's your move next"  
was the subtext.  
I thus unstrapped  
her bra. Bare bapped  
she now appeared.  
On her I leered  
at her contours,  
stopping to pause  
at her navel  
with its pinned jewel  
twinkling in light,  
then took delight  
at her panties  
(which upped antes)  
where I discerned,  
as our lust burned,  
a widening patch  
of wet from snatch.  
I rolled them down.  
A hair-patch, brown ,
wetly appeared.  
I rubbed my beard  
into the lips  
between her hips.  
 
She rubbed my nose  
onto the rose,  
petals parting,  
juices starting  
to run. I sipped  
her, then I slipped  
up her body  
so my roddy  
could slip in her,  
helped by finger.  
 
Her thighs I raised  
then we, sex crazed  
landed on the  
warm four-poster,  
started thrashing,  
her nails gashing  
on my bare back  
making a track.  
 
No ordered form,  
sex was like storm,  
no escaping  
or evading  
as she took me  
with her pussy  
draining my seed  
in course of deed.