Be the prick
Be the swollen lips
Be the trickle of blood sauntering down her pale leg.
Treat her fragility -with vagile virility – trust in her own common sense.
Let her open up to you
Let her tease you into bed, out layered by peels of laughter.
Perhaps you find yourself lying up looking at her naked body, legs astride your torso in your bed head.
Don’t try to stop her from controlling the ride.
Sadie’s on top
you best stay on her appealing side.
Reason shuts down – arousal highjacks all senses.
an Amygdala orgasm- hands reveal the disguise no pretences.
Light strokes vary speed and pace.
Exposed to surrender at near glimpses of skin covered in see-through lace.
Cleansed and tainted from the dance of sentients
Sweaty, ruddy bare cheeks, clothes abandoned, sheets ruffled into a dazzling fusion.
Eye to eye contact threatening on impact
Discard pained thoughts numbed by this oxytocin released from incarceration.
Sadie’s initial taunts inspired events such as this audacious body gratification.
Whiskers of petit amours raise to embrace all sensation.
Blood whips around a framework
Frenetic climax into a bewildered orgimi of elation.
Beating hearts enthral Sadie to linger.
All mighty mother nature – gave us each blessed finger.
Sadie gives what she feels can un-ribbon her mask of distrust.
Less than few broke her hymen soul – merging adoration and lust.
Needs fulfilled. Fuck pillow talk.
don’t ask her how it was.
See her eyes, see her smile, see?
Her face won’t betray her mind.
indifferent to praises of technique.
Trust that Sadie’s tasted delicacies never to discover again
Tongue provokes once soft nipples – get it right.
you will know by instinct if this entices her.
All-time suspended from her world,
You may lose yourself too
entangled in limbs.
Sadie need not hear your confession – though she smiles at the gesture.
She knows your lip service is filled with the original grace of binding hymns.
Comely are those creatures features when treated with respect.
Learn to appreciate a woman.
Learn to appreciate art.
Learn what is and isn’t a subject.
Study her until she catches you out
Especially when you least expect it.
A conjurer of a finely dressed tables
in a laboratory with you as her primary objective.
Endowed with abundant pleasure
A pinch of naive seduction
That look, you wonder –what could she be thinking?
Maybe you’re to busy having a good time to think.
Maybe she stops mid-thrust curiosity aroused
Out loud you hear -What are thinking about?
Maybe you fill her with expectations
A moment of temporary heady delight
A moments reprieve from her slumber
Facedown femme fatale floats
Over Imbibed in the river of Styx.