I love the way you taste ► Jolie Cain poetry |Samarel erotic art

Morning

Scent

I love the way you smell
after we’ve made love.
The sweat, the musk, the sweet, 
sweet scent of satisfaction.
I want to sink into you.
To gobble you up.
To be as necessary for you 
as the air you breathe,
The food you eat.
To become a part of you…
so close to you that you can’t tell 
where you stop and I start.
Am I obsessed with you?
Absolutely.
You know what else?
I love the way you taste.

Golden-Hand

Give Me

Give me no pale, vapid love
barely remembered
at break of day.
No distracted kisses,
dry and dearth of desire.
I don’t want your
love by rote and rule-
stroke here, thrust there.
Roll over and play dead.
No! Show me your need.
that claws and screams
Kisses that bite and sting.
Let me feel a grinding
pounding passion pushed to
the brink and beyond.
Turn me over. Tie me down.
Hurt me. Tease me.
Tempt and try me.
Want me. Crave me
Past reason. Past thought.
Give me
…everything.

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The erotic poetry of Jolie Cain | Erotic art of Samarel

MeritzaSweet Triggers | Jolie Cain

The lash
the crash
the stinging
slash

In deed
in need
I beg
I plead

I leak
I seek
about
to peak

The ties
loud cries
all truth
no lies

Need more
adore
I am
your whore

No shame
no blame
you gave
I came.

 

Hand-in-Panties
Pas Seul | Jolie Cain

I know you’re there
in the shadows
watching,
So I perform my
dance of disrobing…
for your pleasure.

Shrug off the blouse
let it drop…
slowly
to the floor-a dark puddle
at my feet.

I feel your eyes on my
body.  My nipples…
harden…
peak.
My breathing quickens.

My hands move to caress my stomach
travel down, beneath
the edge of my skirt.
As my hands move lower…lower
the skirt moves with it and
my panties…

The air…
trembles.  Shadows…
move.  A ripple.
Then stillness again.

                    Closing my eyes I raise my hands
above my head…
And turn slowly…slowly…
around so you can
see each curve each inch.

See me.  See me…my body whispers to you.
Does your pulse race? Does your body harden?
Does it?  Does it?

Turn the lights on

Hold-me-tight

Turn the Lights On | Jolie Cain
Erotic art by Samarel

Turn the lights on.
I want to watch your hands
gliding down my body…your mouth
tugging at my breasts.

Turn the lights on.
I want to look at the sweat
dripping down your skin…your pulse
beating as you thrust.

Turn the lights on.
I want to see your eyes
gazing into mine…your muscles
tensing as you cum.

Turn the lights on…

A memory of lust and music

_cum1
There are those times when music can heighten every sense we possess. It threads its way through the body, mind, and soul until it becomes a part of us. One that demands to be noticed. Its presence eclipses our usual thoughts, forcing us to recognize the power it holds over us. And we yield to it. Willingly. Wantonly. Recklessly.

Such was the case with me the other nite. While doing some tasks, I had various songs playing. The strains of the music were glorious pouring through my speakers and filling me. I found myself drawn over and over to one song in particular. I would stop what I was doing and replay it. Again and again.

I was consumed by it. Absolutely overtaken by the musician’s voice and the instruments. It permeated me. The intensity of the song became my own intensity. It manifested itself in a need for sex to expend my lust and desire. I could not deny the action it begged from me. My mind was wild, and the heat of my body was palpable.

Urgent but unhurried sex was what I needed. There could be no talking and no lights, except for the moon’s rays filtering through the window. Only two bodies entangled in frenzied mutual pleasuring. Without words. Intense, dark, and torrid.

He gave me that and more. From the very first touch of his fingers on my tightened nipples, I knew he could identify with how the music had affected me. He sensed, felt, the almost violent need for release that was overpowering me. And I…I had an undeniable craving to bring him to a forceful, body-shaking orgasm.

Sitting, standing, kneeling, laying, the positions were ever changing. Kisses were not limited to mouths; they were given whenever and wherever on our bodies. Tongues roamed, licking and lapping at anything and everything. Exploring, delving. Mouths opened and devoured. Sucking, pulling, biting. Hands skimmed over flesh. Fingers slid through hair before clutching the strands in a fist hold. They dug into the flexing cheeks of taut bottoms. They penetrated tight puckered holes, thrusting in and pulling back. Repeatedly. Swollen balls were fondled and caressed. A beautiful, long, thick cock was stroked and taken inside a wet mouth. Oral loving given. A needy and aching pussy was brought to furious contractions via fingers, a tongue, and a luscious cock.

And we came. Gushes of pearly cream let loose with loud cries and quaking, jerking limbs and arching torsos. I was rendered helpless by the aftershocks that gripped and released me at their whim. Completely spent.

I was fulfilled. By him. And now free of the song’s hold on me.

by Femme de Scorpion | Samarel erotic art
http://www.samarelart.com