The race

Kisses revved the engine of passion
and tongues kept it from going up in flames
the finish line was just one final step of compassion
until I had her sensual crowd crying my name.
Racing, pulse pounding twists and turns,
who can get to it first?
Like living in maze of lust and concerns,
like being handed an ocean but still dying of thirst,
pistons pumping in and out,
fluids leaking from the strain
no time for second guessing or doubt
addicted to victory, you strive again and again.
The checkered flag never arises,
but you don't seem to mind
after all there are different types of prizes
the champion in you never gets left behind.
So you push her and she pulls you
one more lap, or more round
until you see the road in your head even without wanting to,
until your pleasure stops being one sound,
but rather a glorious champion's roar,
in glorious unison,
sweeter than any before.
You smile as you both collapse,
knowing with this addiction will be a permanent relapse.
Head to head, you enjoy her competition,
wanting to be the victor, that's your mission
but never able to quit once achieved,
her body, the greatest trophy received.
So race on lovers in the night
for you never know when the end is in sight.