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out of control

I stood in the opposite row of shelves to him. Leaving me only the sight of his jaw through the cracks. I pondered if I could slip my hand through and lightly run my index finger across the bristled skin. I was left bereft in wondering if his eyes were turning my way also. Stock still I stayed even as I watched him move away for the opening, his body stalled blocking my way out, my stomach fluttered and clenched. The slight sound of his boots getting closer, my lips parting, panties damp. A piece of hair fell onto my face, making a crescent moon around my eye, as I looked up at him. Body so close I could smell his cologne, with one small move his belt buckle pressed into my stomach, cold and hard against my thin dress and feverish body. His mouth met mine in the urgency of the moment, hands reaching up my dress. His fingers pushed my panties to the side, the evidence of my desire slick on his swirling fingertips. I clutched the side of his shirt in my fist, caressing him over his pants with my other hand. Our arms rubbing against another in the frantic need. Both knowing it wasn’t the moment to completely satiate our wants, taking what we could right then. I shuddered against his body, meeting his tongue with mine one last time. His lips pressed mine in a chaste kiss as his hand fell away from under my dress. Face flushed, I took my things and left with one last smile over my shoulder at the door..


As I stepped out of the room,
head down, I crashed directly
into his chest.
The hallway was dark, but it was him.
Since our last escapade,
there had been no words spoken,
looks exchanged.
Being so close was torturous agony.

The bar was pulsing,
low heady bass lines
vibrate the walls lightly.
The enclave barely lit,
he took hold of my upper arms.
Steering me deeper into a corner
no one could see.
Lips parted to speak,
before a sound could escape
his mouth covered mine.
Crushing passion,
whiskey tasted and fueled.

Back arched,
nipples hardening as my breasts pressed into him.
Our tongues woven in desperate frenzy.
Wrap a leg around his waist,
straining closer.
Gray satin covered heel
pressing just above his jeans.
Black chiffon bunched between us,
as he held onto me with one hand.
His other tugging the top of my dress,
to allow his mouth to dip inside for a taste.

My hand cradled his head,
fingers stroking dark hair specked with age.
He expelled a breath,
floated hot and rushed against my neck.
Raging fire,
almost stone.

——— I wrote this after my post earlier. It had started as a story, which I felt was complete crap. So I went through and turned it into poem. 🙂 Radiohead definitely motivated me.


He grips one hand above her head
His other kneading her hip
Her hair tangles against the wall

A voice whispers
As lips find the lobe of her ear
She is bad

He will show her the light
While trembling in the darkness

Her frenzied body arches to combine
Fever ridden
Silky flesh

No, be patient
He murmurs urgently
Appreciate the gift

Inside pulsing beyond control
Blue as flame

Her teeth catch onto
His lower lip
He absorbs her whimper
As a hot breath
Floats and fills him


sunshine cloudspicnik His eyes are a meeting
Of the summer blue sky
And a late afternoon storm

She imagines being able
To look into them freely
Across a table
Hovering over her face

Her stomach catches
Breath stutters
When he turns that
Charming broad smile
Her way

His hand slid forward
Fingertips graze her arm
Eyes fluttered up
Realization sparks

The slight crook of her smile
The answer is yes.