closed flowers

Reclined in decadence on a plush velvet chair

A cushioned and garishly brilliant purple

My fuchsia gown of watered credenza

Pushed high to expose the cream of thigh

Above the silken hose of gartered legs

Black shiny leather of strapped stilettos’

Firmly planted on either side of folded legs

One arm bent at elbow, carelessly holding

A crystal highball class of ambered spirits

The other hand carelessly brushing patterns

Into the material of an over filled armrest

Bored disinterest as you begin to lave me

Fully dressed and between my spread

I wait for the drag of darting eager tongue

To connect with the slitted quim of my orchid

That you are currently inhaling like oxygen

This entry was posted in a womans body, Sex. Bookmark the permalink.

6 Responses to closed flowers

  1. abichica says:

    lovely write.. 🙂

  2. Chris Brown (not the felon) says:

    Such a dark, Victorian scene. You should both be smoking cigarettes in those long handled holders. Gazing off into nothing.

    You sucked me right in with your passionate disinterest. Most evocative.

  3. I wish I could write like you. You paint such a complete picture!

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