Painted Walls

Tonight was her night.

On top and in control
she showed me
how a woman made
her man feel special.

The synergy of our souls
overpowered our bodies
as we breathed heavily,
trying to keep up
with our own sex.

I opted to takeover -
to lay her down and press
and penetrate my appreciation
in ways that would ignite
her ogasmic acknowledgments.

But she deferred. Again,
It was her night. She held
my hands down over my head
and stared in my eyes
with her signature sex smile.
Every other second she would
run her tongue across my lips
and then sink her teeth into
my neck; she could feel my jolts
deep inside and hear my sighs
the deeper she bit into my skin.

When she was finished,
-flushed with her head
on my chest - I asked her
what could I do to send her night
into the high aisles of nostalgia.


Still inside her, she whispered
in my ear what she wanted
and rested her ear back against
my beating heart.

Obliging, I wrapped my arms
tightly around her tired body
and began to grind - starting
slowly and gaining the momentum
needed to make her night.

Tighter and tighter we squeezed
until it was time; then I had arrived.
Together we wailed as I painted
her inner walls with the white,
warm residue of the best love
ever made.