PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

"I don't remember what I said or did, but in your mind, every word I said

seemed to fit. My hand gestured the index and middle as the thumb appeared 

to be a simulation of banter, but in your mind, those gestures fiddled a fiddle…"

...A moments prelude flourished a night when it was time to amalgamate

A strong sense of need became a want of fervid imminent desire

Eyes would dilate in question acknowledging those tinkering fingers

Soon to remove more and more thread unveiling your savory silk…

A moments day trickled reading what your skin would say and play

Curious I was and crazy I became to wrestle my fuel with your fire

I perused and pursued an anxious thirst coveting a lust lost for years

Gently I maneuvered through a flaming storm awaiting to be fulfilled…

"Music seemed to lead to a route where everything became a delicacy. I 

appeared conscious during this musical sweetness yet this magnification

had a vivid fundamental observation filled with integrated instruments."

…These liquids sizzled with every touch and kiss of delicate skin

Sweat would drip in great gusto with every nibble and crave

The energy inside would ignite our lips and jumpstart a bite;

Adding allegro and spice while gratifying your sweet derriere…

…In creative intent we invent as you bend your note to let me in

Licking your lips to slippery strums submitting as my octave slave

We conduct and compose, ravishing your notes as you vocalize;

A sweet symphony my baton provides, fused, thick, so debonair…

"The sounds she made unleashed an explosion detained under our skin.

 A melodic eruption of sweat yelled against each others skin for the right 

key to be pressed and pressured. This eventful urge caused a switch in 

position for who was taking the lead in this infused composing phenomena.

She smiled an firmly dubbed my clarinet for her next sound. The tonguing

she provided made the slurs pleasing and appealing. She kept her rhythm

pleasurable while maintaining tight cheeks. She switched again to catch her 

breath as I carefully indulge in a cheeky treat for me to feast as heat increased.

My lips engaged her wholesome harmonica as her mouth housed my trombone. 

Blitheful forgotten chords emerged with every sensual lick deferring zesty moans. 

Restless tongues prowled each tasteful nerve simulating an ice cream cone. 

Delightful drops were graciously licked as levels were difficult to control. Sensual 

knobs were set, yet tones were provoked to escape effectual limits. The rhythm 

romped and to my surprise, enhanced the music and sound her body created. A 

mixture of moans, kisses, and bites, stirred a core in need of longed satisfaction.

My perspective changed with her oohs and aahs like sounds in a dream. An 

orchestrated voice continued, flipping the music sheet. A bracing thrust exhorts 

an innocent pull of hair emitting submission. She turns to me and shoves me to 

the floor. She giggles and slowly dances her way appearing to prepare for a 

dismount to mount my instrument. I inhale this rush in my body, waiting for her 

next move. She stops,  smiles and does a slow motion cartwheel landing over 

me. She inserts my sound maker in her slot and straddles for one final ride. 

She leans forward and whispers 'I scream' in my ear. I caress her fruit scented 

hair and make contact with her lips. My tongue gracefully encircled her sweet 

and sultry lips; captured and captivated, I grasp and thrust her hearty heated 

hips. A tightening urge is felt throughout like energy flowing in and out our skin. 

Her lento pace directs my hands behind my head. Her permissive moans change 

in tone, tittering as she slides off of me. She familiarized my sounds which awaited 

secretion. She mouthed, relished, savored, and fondled everything with her tongue. 

Soon did I realize what she had whispered in my ear, "ice cream." It was a daring 

mix in this lustrous symphony having played with much furioso. It was a daring mix  

for this "Suite in a 'D' major," yet, in the end…it was I that was abiding by her tempo."

© David Joel Rodriguez