deepundergroundpoetry.com

Fever Pitch

on certain nights the stretch of flesh feels so tight
it's like she might burst at the seams if she doesn't get what she needs
and she reaches for the back of the wardrobe
pulling out the seldom worn scandalous scrap of firecracker red
leaving little to the imagination and plenty for the eye
the only thing between fabric and flesh is a fine mist of exotic scent
just enough to tempt but not overwhelm
an added allure to counter her ordinarily demure demeanor
stripping off her everyday timid facade
denuded of all semblance of submissive
she slips legs into tall black leather boots
tucked for safe keeping under the bed
the long slow zip like the sigh of a lover in anticipation
shaking out her unruly mane to exude the wild nature ruling her
she makes her move and leaves her room
her slut strut stomping out her hidden dominant beat
she makes her rounds hunting him down
nothing weak or meek in the seeking
she wants a man who can match her passion
looks forward to wrestling for dominance
her blood stirs into fever pitch just thinking about the fight
someone who manhandles her curvature
with the strength to endure the rake of her claws
he stands at the bar wearing defiance like a tattoo
exuding an aura of sensual fuck yous
this is the one and she makes her approach
issuing invitation without saying a word
eyes on her prize she leads him to his destiny
her thigh high stilettos straddling his mutiny
and she rides his rebellion hard into the night
knowing he'll never be broken and neither will she
�
gauntlet thrown
�
draped in a sultry gown...ready to paint the town red
he noticed at first glance
she was definitely her own woman
coming in as that irresistible force...strutting..
high heeled..knee high...on course
fierce....her desires fermented..
her eyes a rebellious shade of piercing intent �
reading the room..in braille
heat signaling her immovable object's alpha waves
so ready to vet his gentleman's quarterly
undress his sophistication...unbutton his collar
loosen his tie...suggest he orders her favorite cocktail...
a prime tequila salted with innuendos
givin him a hint of what's to come
somethin' slippery..salacious..this voracious woman
crept underneath his shadow self
shadowed his thickness with her puss n' boots
..soaking his liquored root
until she felt him shoot his shot
...until she got her fill and feel of exuding that
exotic undercurrent of what it is
to move as a woman unapologetically unsheathed...
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