WHEN YOUR ARMS TIGHTEN

When the pace of thrustings heighten  
your arms around my torso tighten,  
your nails scratch up and down my back  
as I make inroads in your crack.  
 
Behind my back your legs twine round.
More urgent moanings are your sound.
No danger that I will withdraw,
it's like you want this evermore.
 
These expressions of passions raw  
just spur me deeper in your core,  
bring you to point of orgasm.  
Seed and juice creams in your chasm.  
 
After that we cease our humping,  
body onto body slumping,  
sharing leisurely caressing  
as we wind down from our pressing.