Dovoto's Poetry
You've heard the famous tale of a jolly Christmas Eve
where Santa down the chimney comes, touching his nose to leave.
But there is another story and it takes place Christmas night,
after the children have gone to bed and the parents have dowsed the light.
“Christmas Night”
In a softly lit room at the back of the house
were two creatures stirring a man and his spouse.
She was bound to the bed by her ankles with care
her stockings tossed aside her skin soft and bare.
The women lay in wait body carefully posed,
her legs unfolded, spread out like a rose.
The man stood apart drinking the view
his senses overcome by a sight granted few
The man found resolve in his yearning, unspoken,
and with quiet abandon the distance was broken
With one silent step their absence was ended
his skin against her skin teasing as intended.
The women lay still, quivering and entranced
the fake bonds of their toys staying her advance.
Slowly, intently, with purpose and with flare
his lips passed softly through the warm winter air.
He dropped his lips lightly on the top of her knee
where his tongue wandered wetly until lifting free.
His tongue went quite rouge as it continued to wander
from the soft inner thigh toward the places men ponder.
Her soft silken petals were his tongues hungry quest
her gentle flower's flavor its only request.
His tongue found the petals waiting wet and unsated
and began the undulating quest for which it was fated.
With random and rhythmic pulsating motions
his wet tongue practiced its reverent devotions.
She squirmed and she strained and the ropes lightly tightened
her consciousness slipped yet her senses were heightened.
And his tongue continued on, sliding up and sliding down
until his hands slid forward, from her knee to her mound.
As his tongue settled deeper his fingers were freed
to massage to coerce to satisfy her need.
They slid from her clit past his tongue delving deep
They pressed in and pulled out till she thought she might weep
They stroked softly and varied and in tune to his tongue
until finally at last they thought she might cum.
And she did with a quiver and great arching of back
her body first tense and then going slack.
His fingers and tongue were stilled by sensations:
the slow pulsing beat of orgasmic revelations.
As he rested she shook in the waning assault
the endings of her nerves ending their revolt.
He lifted his eyes to hers still rolled back
his body sliding forward poised to attack.
His lips parted hers while his hands slid to wrists
undoing the clasps on the ropes with a twist.
Her ankle bonds followed in rapid succession
releasing the soft limbs of her lover’s obsession.
Their bodies entwined and writhed on the bed
the hunger grew palpable and its emptiness spread.
Her hands began guiding him eagerly inside
to fill the growing void with his rhythmic glide.
With fervor and passion and intent in each stroke
hunger was sated just as new hunger woke.
Her climax was often, intense, and consuming
While his built much slower, a flower late blooming.
The moment soon shifted as moments often do
and she soon felt a need for new moments too.
With a lift and a roll she spun her self round
her back to him now, her new moment found.
In her body’s demand his command was forsaken;
the reigns of this dance she had from him taken.
The pace was now set by her own rapid rocking
his front to her ass their bodies were talking.
The words were too strange for paper and pen
the whispers of passions of women and men.
He felt himself approaching a perilous chasm
part of him fighting the oncoming spasm.
Such a spasm would herald a night fully ended
This fine Christmas night completely expended.
But that part was a small part of the man's quiet whole
a part with no say in how this play would unfold.
So the chasm was broached, exceeded without thought
and the late blooming flower was unto him wrought.
As this night of abandon demanded its toll
a vibration gone astray struck the cords of his soul
It began as a fire in the thickness of his thighs
blazing its passage up his back to his eyes.
His whole body lit from his mind to his toes
his whole body caught up in physical throws.
With the same rhythmic pulse that heralded her peaking
his body sang out now in a voice not quite speaking.
His body pushed deeper instinct interceding
his seed spilling out while his mind was receding.
For a moment an eternity a second or a day
the man in his rapture was frozen this way.
But the eons subsided as the seconds ticked on
and with two panting breaths the moment was gone.
The couple uncoupled and lay side by side
and there that young couple could have happily died.
Hand clasped in hand, eyes on the celling
profound contentment senses still reeling,
they lay side by side as consciousness abated.
Rarely so thoroughly has happiness been sated.
And the man whispered softly, before closing eyes tight,
“Happy Christmas my love, sweet dreams and good night.”
Dovoto's Poetry
Let me know what you think!
Tue, 17th August, 2010
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