3am

It’s 3am  
I’m always awake at 3am  
 
I feel her stir among the sheets  
And she rolls near  
Facing me  
Seeing in the dark  
The shimmer in my eyes,  
Same as I see hers,  
Reaches her hand to caress my cheek  
And says quite candidly,  
Almost forlorn:  
‘I’m horny’  
Firmly indicating my lips  
Have been idle far too long  
 
I place my hand at her waist,  
Pulling her closer,  
Pressing my mouth to hers,  
Surprised by the way her tongue  
Rockets in to my mouth  
And tumbles with mine  
 
I run my hand through her hair and  
We spend a moment locked together  
In breathless French fashion  
Before withdrawing and trying to  
Find our breath once again;  
And her hand straying to see  
If I’m ready for her next advance  
 
But I make the next move  
Slipping my arm beneath her,  
Pulling her closer,  
Promptly sliding my free hand to  
The waistline of her pajama pants  
And without a word,  
Skimming beneath to her silky mound  
 
Her breathing becomes slightly labored  
As my fingers below tease her  
And she leans back in  
Kissing me vigorously,  
Occasionally interrupted by a gasp of surprise  
When I touch particularly  
Pleasurable nerves  
 
Then I draw my hand away,  
Fingers damp from their play,  
And she ceases her salacious kisses  
And with a frustrated sadness growls:  
‘Why did you stop?’  
 
And I pull her still closer,  
Skin to skin,  
So that she can feel my excitement  
So near her ache  
While my fingers skitter down her back  
And tug away at her cloth  
 
She aids me in stripping her bare  
Shaking off every last article  
Before withdrawing  
To lay on her back,  
Delicate as a spring flower  
Opening at dawn  
 
The moonlit shadows dance across her  
As ripples in a pool  
And as I arch over her  
She quivers and pulls at me  
Though I try to softly lay against her  
And she kisses me again and again,  
Raising her hips,  
Attempting to snare me  
 
I lean in,  
Running my fingers again through her hair,  
Watching her eyes darting in the dim light  
 
I run my lips up her jawline  
Catching her earlobe and  
Gumming it intently,  
Reveling in her whimper:  
‘Going to make me beg?’  
 
Just a moment more, love,
 
Just a moment more…