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21 more things = 42

The last post was the 21 things I KNOW at 42. At the end I said I'd consider writing 21 more things to make it 42 in total & then ...

Sunday

Word-gasms (had to release this or lose sleep)


Last night's mood had a strong hold on me. It grabbed me by the neck and pulled me down. I was on the mat til I got this out. Beans and Wayne Head, thanks for understanding why I couldn't fully participate at the cookout, too busy caressing my notebook. & Frogger, you know this is partially your fault.

Untitled (for now)

the door to her den was left unlocked.
lights were low like a spoken word cafe where awkward brothas rely on word play to coax the sistas' panties down.
incense only further added to the cliche but of course they were burning, they're sexier than Plug-Ins.
indoor moonlight and the strength of sandalwood joined hands with the welcoming aroma of vanilla.

and the stage was set.

a note pinned to the door when he'd arrived guided his 1st move.
"remove your shoes and socks," it said, "no other energies welcome."
a black arrow pointed back toward the kitchen, followed by foot prints counted and exact.
he was college educated and knew how to follow directions, even the unspoken sort.
he stopped where he was instructed.
the picture frame to his left was somehow different,
the picture of her grandmother had been replaced by "remove something, your choice."

and he did.

a photographer himself, his highly trained eye caught the fine print at the bottom, did as he was told, and continued on to the kitchen.
nothing appeared to be going on but she'd sent him there for a reason.
knowing her every move was calculated, down to matching her toothbrush to her bathroom decor, he knew there had to be another clue.
one chair stood slightly askew, somehow beckoning him, and so he sat.

and waited.

a warm breeze blew through, as though conjured, and put out the candles.
he knew this girl walked among "them," that she had that thang, but he could feel some new spells would be cast that night. he sat.

and waited.

his chest, the part he'd chosen to bare, glistened from the warmth of the fires stoked by his imagination.
unconsciously, he licked his lips, eyes closed, remembering her contours.
the smell of her drifted on that warm breeze he was sure she'd sent in.
intoxicated, he missed the sound of her footsteps.
it was the chill on his left nipple that signaled a change.
he didn't dare open his eyes, choosing instead to co-mingle fantasy and reality.
in his fantasy she was a cloud, a dewy cloud, that engulfed his body, lightning prodding him gently in his most tender places.
in reality, his nipples throbbed and swelled in her mouth, lapped by her tongue, pinched gently by her teeth.
this was different, he thought, not gay like his boys said.
and he suspected they enjoyed it as much as he, but why the shame?
she called him Shaft 'cause he attacked dat ass like a spear.
and his shaft fought doggedly against the fabric constraining it, causing him to wonder if he should've removed the more obvious choice.
his nipples chorused, reminding him that he had in fact made the right decision.
leaving no nipple neglected and not breaking her stride, she let Shaft from his cage and gifted him the first breaths of freedom.
he knew to treasure them, to inhale deeply and exhale slow because soon she'd do her best to drown him in the warmest of tropical waters.
while his eyelids competed with humming bird wings, one hand pulled and stroked him deeper into the light.
it was her lips brushing lightly against his face and neck that re-focused his attentions.
but she told him to keep his eyes shut.

and he did.

ice cubes melted on his neck.
she straddled and hovered over him.
her own heat hotter than his mama's kitchen during the holidays.
her skin didn't touch his, she only scorched him, like being too close to the sun.
these were burns he withstood gladly, knowing she'd also be his soothing balm.
he was steadily sinking into the "hurt so good" place, wanting her like his next meal, needing her like his next breath.
she knew this, keeping track of his heart rate, the pace of his breathing, and keeping cool her desire to respond to the Morse Code she watched him tap out in the space maintained between them.
this exercise was both pleasure and pain for the two, riding bare back on their nerves.
she had a plan, but it had become difficult for her to resist the passion she had stirred in him.
like hot soup in the winter she felt she required him to ensure her heartbeat in the present and not so distant future.
she had done an expert job of lulling him into an ecstasy induced stupor, but her inner thighs trembled against his outer thighs.
this was new too. with minimal touch and the suspenseful anticipation of the moment he would submerge all parts of him that space allowed for was his most precious intangible feeling to date.
and he wasn't ready to surrender it to her matching hunger for him.
he felt her hips dip and instinctively arched his back, retreating, he whispered "wait."

and she did.

he realized he was bound in mind only and took back control of his limbs.
concentrating his strength into his arms, he raised them both effortlessly from the chair.
he was thinking he'd swoop her off to a soft nest made for big birds.
whenever he slept in her bed he felt it was made of the love and warmth she showered on him.
he'd made an error in judgment though.
her strength surpassed his in that moment.
damn the other notes spread out around the house promising adventure!
planning this event was foreplay enough for her.
his quiet surrender only raised the temperature higher, and all those carefully placed pieces of paper would serve as playful conversation over waffles and o.j.
but that was the next day and right then was urgent, so very serious, for her to have a meal of a different sort.
he hadn't a clue how it happened but she was no longer in his arms and his back had reconnected with the chair.
with the skill of a seasoned jockey she had mounted him, taking his head into her jaws and clamping down tightly with her pussy teeth.
for what seemed like a beautiful eternity she was still, embracing him with muscles small and large.
she held her grip on his mind his heart, and his member and slid slowly down his pole with the grace of girls serious about stripping their way through college.
they long exhaled together.

and then the real adventure began.

(c) 2009

3 comments:

  1. I just read your poem to my cousin and she said "that poem belongs on Def Poetry Jam!"

    Keep writing and showing the world your stuff. The next step will be to get your own domain name.

    Kev

    ReplyDelete
  2. I agree very Def Poetry Ready!! GO HIMBER LOL

    ReplyDelete