THE ARCH OF HER BACK

The arch of her back    
when I'm in her crack    
rises to meet me,    
so instinctively,    
while my torso brown    
weighs her body down    
upon the mattress,    
of which she's mistress    
in the gymnastics    
of bedroom antics.    
 
Her legs wind around    
my waist as I pound,,    
keep me in her grip    
from which I can't slip    
until she's sated,    
nigh pearly-gated,  
back arching no more  
while seed fills her core.  
orgasm attained,  
leaving me feel drained.....