Untitled

For some reason a title for this eludes me, any suggestions?

Beautiful female legs in pantyhose

It starts simply enough, playful

Some spooning, a poking,

A tet a tet

Then your wet, but playing hard to get,

Then your got, you know?

 

And for while it’s still playful,

A fidgety tongue playing across, between, inside, around,

You’re panting now, and that’s one.

 

Two is swift to follow when

You are entered, invaded, persuaded ever so deliciously.

Welcome the intrusion,

Of this thing, hard and driven,

Attached to someone hard and driven,

Driven hard on driving you to three. Sweet three.

 

But somewhere in the coming, this became a serious thing,

And the tempo is like your heart beat, strong and steady wins the race,

It’s intense but far from over.

and where you were once happy at the mission

you are now eager to do the riding,

because,

well, it’s only right that four should be a thing of your own making,

 

Flipped, and switched now there it is, five, six,

On the heels of battering ram incisions

into somewhere you weren’t sure existed,

Hitting alphabets reverberating through your system,

Each stroke like a strike of Big Church bell.

Seven, eight this is your ticket to hell,

This is the taste of ambrosia made sensation,

And god never intended us to have this?

 

This on the verge of nine, and you are so intertwined

He’s trying to crawl into your womb,

And all things being equal you would let him.

For all that is within this thing of carelessly thrown legs

Unfurled that he may cum and have, be sated in the conquering,

Wild and hungry and you are just as yearned, learning for yourself the depths of your own depravity,

Waiting, begging, hoping but not hastening Ten,

 

Ten.

 

Journey end?

When he comes with, and cums with and all is

Waves of afterglow washing over your pelvis,

You are now paraplegic with pleasure,

Joints well worn,

muscles stretched and your psyche torn and tatted in his wake,

And the only coherence left is to compare

your  jilted motions to a Fallow deer just after first breath,

So you stay and be held and be made well in the haze of the little deaths

Playful good intentions, ignited into mature passion,

Culminating in sleep… paralysis.

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About Michelle Toussaint

Michelle Toussaint is an Antiguan who has amassed an Associate Degree in Science Education as well as a Diploma in Forensic Science. As such, she Teaches Science in the classroom as well as at home, where she leads...er... co-leads The Tribe. A merry band comprising her Husband-The Chief, herself-The Priestess, and her three precocious children- the tribesmen. When she isn’t mothering, teaching, being a fangirl or feeding her chocolate addiction. She writes two blogs. Random_Michelle and Death By Expectations. View all posts by Michelle Toussaint

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