Shadow of Pink Houses
In the heart of a small town,
Where the sun melts into
Painted facades of pink
And whispers of a dream.
A man stands at the corner,
Rough hands calloused by the weight
Of promises he never made
But still, he dreams of them.
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Poetry
Swallowing the Beacon’s Pulse
Under the lighthouse, your mouth surrounds me,
Sucking deeply, warmth builds with each touch,
Pleasure rises with every direct press,
Your tongue’s pressure is steady and warm,
Each flick sends sharp waves through me.
Warm breath on my skin makes me shiver,
Pleasure intensifies clearly in the dark,
Every action heightens the sensation,
The warmth of your mouth covers me fully,
Every lick drives pleasure higher.
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Poetry
Flogging Fullness
Candles flicker in the soft, dim light,
Their glow dances, shadows take flight.
In the air, a tension thick and still,
Each breath you take, time seems to spill,
Your heartbeat echoes in the night.
The door creaks open with a hush,
My steps are slow, your senses rush.
You feel the shift, I’m drawing near,
The room now thick with silent fear,
As if the air itself would blush.
In the dance of D/S,
She consents to the tender caress,
Her body bared, anticipation in the air,
The dominant’s touch finds her there,
Awakening desires she’s eager to share.
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Poetry
In the quiet room, hearts echo loud,
Dominant’s hands tremble, strong and proud.
A collar rests between fingers tight,
Emotions swirl, dark meets light.
In the realm of leather and lace,
Where alpha doms strut with pride,
Their egos bloated, faces red,
Proclaiming dominance far and wide.
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Poetry
In the tapestry of time, your scars unfold,
Each line etched deep, stories untold.
They speak of battles fought, struggles endured,
Yet from their depths…
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Poetry
Dance Of Suckles And Pulls
Lips on soft curves, desire ignites,
Dominant hands guide apart slickening thighs.
Suckles deep with primal need,
Exploring paths where passions lead.
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Poetry
In the dim where shadows twist and play,
Surrender reveals the depth of the display.
Bound by trust, the body’s tender thread,
In the heat of passion, the soul is spread.
Pain becomes pleasure, a fiery embrace,
Each lash, each touch, a pulse to chase.
The sting, a sweet torment that shatters the mind,
Releases the hold, leaving all else behind.
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Poetry