Wednesday, November 19, 2014

Mimi-Mona Erotic Poetry: On The Morrow

©On The Morrow
Mona Arizona, October 2014
Mimi Wolske-Mona Arizona™
All Rights Reserved

When we meet on
the morrow,
make love to me.
Slowly .
If it takes until tomorrow,
I don't care.
Begging, please, make
my body do
things I never knew that you could,
knew you could...
Over and over until we lose count
of how many times you make me come.

Let me be your
drawing you
close to me
while we kiss and I quote Byron.
Old friend,
sweet lover,
you don't have to
hold back,
you don't have to be shy;
we will have the time of our lives.

Scoop me into
your embrace,
fist my long,
chestnut hair,
and kiss the breath from me
as though
no one
exists except
for us;
nip my earlobe with your
teeth and send shivers down my spine.

Nudge my thighs
with you knee;
cup my mound;
my hissing breath.
I want your demanding mouth
claiming my parted lips and my
naked body that will strain toward yours.

your wicked
fingers over
my moist,
sensitive part,
then sinking them into
the tight depths
will elicit moans,
will make me quiver,
will make my world splinter.

Your deep,
guttural moans will
rumble against
my mouth as it
grinds against
yours. Let your hips jerk
upwards and desperately
plunge into my pleading depths
until your own rugged cries
hang in the air.

(painting by u2ro)