Lust On My Tongue

Another take on lust – and passion – and addiction – and, yes, intoxication!


 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

She stood before me… the red temptress…

Straight, firm, slim, with her easy curves,

Smooth slick skin that my fingers easily slip upon

And she knows the effect that she can have on me…

Oh yes, she knows.

I get the taste of her kiss on my tongue…

Remembering the smooth velvet;

Her intimate and personal intrusion in my mouth.

It is all so easy for her to beckon me…

Into her spell.

There is a moment… contemplation…

Where I climb from the sticky goo

Of my lust, and with wooly thinking, lust instead

To be free, be single, and be independent

Of thirsty need.

That’s when I daydream… of what could be…

But the moment she is cast-off –

Like an oiled jerkin in a northerly storm –

I tremble for the fear of being without her…

Frozen… alone.

Magnetically I walk to her

Knowing I am lost with each step…

Letting go… wanting her to grasp my heart…

Shaking with anticipation of my desire…

And yes, she comes…

There is no resistance on her part,

She flows to me, smooth, quick, and free

And in the sense of her, a fire is lit…

I swallow and my mouth is dried, my tongue singing,

And down she goes…

…my darling vin rouge.

 

© griffonner 2020
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critique and comments welcome.
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Stormwolf

Oooh you are a very naughty man. Or as Dick Emery would say, “you are naughty…but I like you!”
You had me fooled to the very end. 😉 haha

Alison x

Fitbin

Excellent invocation of the crimson mask. Red wine indeed. Cheers

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