Mystic Mayhem
Of touch and feel
A poem
She comes to me, without an understanding of the how.
Without regard for time or distance, or what I may be doing at the moment.
Without the concern of consent as she knows she will bend me to beg.
As a thought at first, before the flesh realizes it is enslaved.
The hint of heartbeat gaining ground, and breath quicken.
Slowly feeling the tingle of tease riding up my thighs.
Until the magic of her fathom fingers encourage growth.
And attention for nothing beyond want and participation.
Painfully slow she tastes her way without care of region or passing of time.
Her only concern is the climb and then to begin again.
No matter what I do or think she brings me to that place.
Of apex pleasure, and surreal view, in accompaniment of pursuit.
Until I’m confident I am mad, but without care of anything but thirst quench.
Her tongue satisfied she feeds the fire she has been fanning.
I know the journey has no return and she will drive hard to hear me say her name.
Relentless is her need to find satisfaction, and her effort monumental.
As I weaken her strength grows in magnitude to reach the next wave.
I drown in pursuit and pleasure knowing madness and her lust has taken me.
