Ankles to Wrists.

When I am beneath,
the salt of your heat,
my insides keep rhythm,
to your heavy heartbeat;
When we are like this,
my body wants to submit,
to the flavors that make up,
an intoxicant in your kiss;
something is:
somehow, amiss…
I taste a subtle
but lasting emptiness;
But I take refuge,
in your ownership,
so just come and do it…
get on with this;
sweat glistening,
heavy breathing,
you are listening,
I’m well-receiving…
how I’m glued to it,
I’ve been persisting,
with a molasses slow…
strong and steady flow,
against your resisting,
to my submitting,
in all my nakedness,
strings to ankles,
ankles to wrists:
tied up with a bow,
that my Daddy picked,
for days that he,
wants to re-open it;
his marauding way,
suits me best,
when his skin
is tightly pressed
stuck like glue against
my slippery,
and heaving chest;
it’s only then,
through darkness,
the song that you,
refuse to sing,
in your stubbornness…
and momentarily,
you belong to me,
then and there,
in the land of:
No Where…
I love when,
you let me see,
the face of the man,
who owns my body.

6 thoughts on “Ankles to Wrists.

  1. charlypriest says:

    Hold on, I´m going ! Have to catch a plane and travel for 9 hours, so will you wait…..

  2. How did I miss this originally? Senioritis must have creeped in or the Universe hid it from me so I’d think I was a lot older than I thought. To say it was sensuous and stirring would be the understatement, indeed. Umwrapping bows again and again will never be the same after these images jumped off the page, Milady. I may need a new fire extinguisher stationed by this old laptop, not sure the power supply was built for this.
    ͡(͡🔥^ʖ^🔥) ლ(🔥\◡👅◡/🔥)ლ