She smiles and giggles at how i repurpose my shirt ties into handcuffs and a blindfold with some basic knotwork.
She’s bound, tied and blind but not fearing for her life.
Curled toes and moans followed by grins indicate the reaching of a limit.
Excitement takes ahold and what escapes me looks like ropes across her body.
Further securing the visual bondage.
You choke the shaft of the brush,
wet the tip with what looks like spit
and begin to stroke.
I blush and hush my screams,
from seeing the streaking paint cream,
leaking onto your fists.
Yet you maintain a firm grip and
giggle at how I’m stoked
from your every brushstroke.
You’re talented, creative and reckless
when you allow the paint to spray onto your canvas.
You finger paint with the clumped up droplets and
smile at the masterpiece you accomplished.
While ignoring the paint sprinkled around your eye sockets.
Gripping thighs, bent over grinding,
embracing bodies and hearts pounding.
Eyes trace your face, tongues dance with a mouthful embrace
and blissful kisses surrogate what heart’s wish to communicate.
Call n response without speaking, our fellacious conversation
has my mental peaking and erect at attention.
Because through motion our souls are sensationally connected.
Biting lips paired with lustful stares are exchanged and
you got me higher than I’ve ever been.
Biddy-da-dum, you got me boo’d up and stoned like a biblical whoore.
Saddled up, thrusting and palms suffocating your moaning.
Your hands touching the ceiling,
to find your balance while face-sitting.
I’m elatedly happy,
I can’t control my anxiety,
when we say simultaneously
“I can’t get over thee…”
My heart’s dancing and truck’s suspensions shaking
to the rhythm of this Asian baby girl’s feelings.
{“Ouch, don’t pull so hard”}
Excuse me miss,
but I’m currently a drunken mess.
Dismiss the distress caused by my intoxicated grip.
I’ve taken one too many sips,
so please don’t be jaded at how I’m severely faded.
Your every kiss is sweet like mangoes, picks me off my feet,
when our lips get tangled in a tango.
Our mouths dance, I’m left in a trance,
speechless, only able to communicate with my hands.
Fingertips grazing your seductive hips, I’m lit, smiling at your biting lip.
Excuse me miss, but we must try this again. Sober.
So, I’ll wait for that text to ring, asking to meet thee over by the shaded swing.
Dissect the Dialect 