Her honey’d hole a wet, wet dream,
her liquid gold a silky stream where
sliding thrusts were mounted, hot,
and arching bodies dared not stop;
where moments flowed into the next
and both were drowned in comfort sex
and eyes were riding each one’s soul –
his quest for freedom her only goal

And rather than come up for air
this fiery passion sank them there,
(as both an anchor, twined like rope,
and locked in pelvic gyroscope)
her swollen thighs around his waist,
her nails embedded, tongues embraced –
and fishing for that final taste
with every touch, in every place

Fused as one with melting cores,
(her curling toes demanding more)
his urgent need to plunge her rightly
sealed them closed with hearts bound tight
and all around them
walls of water washed their sins
in quickening waves that locked them in
with swats and spanks
and gentle yanks and saucy stares
while skin-to-skin and hand to soaking hair

Like rolling tide to rocky shore,
(her legs thrown wide, his pelvis sore)
the crash and grind of karmic ties
were deep explored and fast revived
(with whispered greed they came alive)
awash with dirty unrestraint
they thrived, unreined, with fate to blame,
their pulsing needs through every vein
infused as one and charged by same:
her wild release on which he came, an ocean
calling out her name

© Tamara Natividad | pisceanesque.com | Written 10 January, 2017