The first time I tasted you, you smelled like spring.
Blushing, staring into my eyes
you said:
-- Do me first,
I’ll do you next.
Lifting your dress, I hesitated
letting fractions of time pass me by, knowing we weren’t alone.
In a neighbouring room with the TV on low,
your parents were home.
Like a stranger I let your hands guide me,
tracing fingers along your inner thigh.
Your skin, skittish
under my touch;
your sighs, soft.
Lapping at your delicate pinkness I inhaled your scent,
transfixed as you came
biting your lip.
Your nectar tasted tart and sweet;
intoxicating.
No longer tongue-tied, I wanted more.
We married in summer.
Laughing and dancing, we stayed up way too late,
and all that day I couldn’t wait to get a taste of what lay beneath
that ivory dress -
the one that cost too much
but your parents insisted anyway.
My tongue like a serpent searching through Eden,
for the sweetest fruit to be eaten.
I sucked the fevered heat between your legs, sticky as molasses.
You trembled and bucked,
begging me to fuck you;
knowing my cock was hard and lustful, with desires of its own.
My fingers greasy, exploring your cunt,
feeling your ass tighten around me like we were one.
And when you came, it was hard
and fast
and joyful;
no hiding this time.
You were addictive.
I was in love, and wanted more.
Autumn was stormy with flashes of anger,
and we argued until I conceded defeat.
Staring into my eyes
you said:
-- you need to be punished.
Hands cuffed, you rode my face,
hips rocking across my tongue.
You moaned to the rhythm of the bed-frame beating a tattoo against the wall;
the blurred thrum of your pleasure.
Tomorrow, the neighbours will grin
and smirk, but tonight
I don’t care.
Taking my time,
savouring the salty tang of your skin on my lips;
the wetness of your cunt on my face.
The honeyed slickness flooding my mouth was
heady.
I was in lust, and wanted more.
The last time I tasted you, you smelled like winter.
Eyes cold with bitter regret,
you said:
– It’s just a fuck, it means nothing more.
And I watched you place your house keys in the dresser drawer, knowing I had lost you.
We undressed in silence.
No longer a stranger, I found myself in the space between your thighs
tracing familiar paths with my fingers.
With my tongue burrowed deep inside, you cried out,
clawing my back and pulling me closer,
grinding your clit hard against my mouth.
Lying to myself, I have a moment of hesitation
as if I can somehow keep you here.
Now shadows fall across the spaces that you left, like
phantoms fuelled by my bitterness.
The taste of you still haunts my lips.
I am in pain, and want more.