Please, I need to kneel at your feet for a curative drink.
Your fingers slowly tracing the axis of my jaw,
push back my hair and pull on the rope; wrapping knuckles, tight, in a tourniquet.
I gaze up, begging, to the desire in your dark eyes, as your thumb slides along parted lips.
And I have so much to say, but I choke on the depth of your words.
Maybe tonight, I’ll drown in your pleasure.
But, baby, tomorrow it’s you who’ll be pleading.
Down on your knees heavy breathing.
But ah, let’s be real, I’d rather it be me, Sipping the tonic of submission.
* thanks for reading my once a year dirty poem ;). I must say to those who can write erotic poems - it’s proven to be incredibly challenging! The line between just porn and too cheesy is so thin. I’m throwing in the towel! 😇