Lust

               Her piercing stiletto heel tears at the leather flesh of my sitting room chair. Her nails through the dark layers of my tender back, streams of scarlet roll past my childhood scars. We kiss and her lips, drip of honey softer than sugar’s piquant sister. The whisper of her name opens her maiden softness willingly to my stern lust.

                I violate her joyous flesh and bite her neck as she calls out to the goddess who grants us this pleasure. She taunts my ridged manliness, we move in perfect synchronicity and become lost in the haunting inclination. Her nails continue their luscious journey down my back, as she rises and falls in our joint delight. I imbibe at the dark stiffness of her capped bosom.

                She strains under the shivers of her freed body, and I pulse harder still, nearing my tolerance. As I call out the name of my tender mistress, she silences me with her warm mouth and tongue. Our breath mingles and the pleasure we share nears its peak. Our bodies blend into one as we both let go our particular need, releasing the result of our lust.

-Johnny V.

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