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The Night We Came

Aarush Deora 

In the silent darkness, her lips found mine

Squirmed, angry and impatient,

Her tongue would slither inside, exploring,

Bolts of pleasure shot down my spine.

Hands, no longer mine,

Ripped apart her feeble shirt,

A moment she tried to pull away

But alas, the beast was out now.

 

Her ripe breasts spoke to me, silver smooth in the moonlight,

The beast within me growled and the primitive fires raged,

Pink nipples stood haughtily, twitching with excitement,

As I engulfed the entirety of the succulent areola

Sucking as if for eternal life, the other one I grabbed with a hand,

Till my lover was reduced to a pile of moans.

 

She squirmed and nibbled at my ear,

Sinking her teeth slowly into flesh,

Her long legs rubbing against the rod that threatened to tear through.   

As she unbuttoned and held my shaft

For the very first time

It was my turn

To be shattered and rebuilt.

 

In the scarlet darkness, she would kneel down

Her eyes transfixed

Onto the pleasure she held in her hands

I waited with my breath

For a moment the world stood still

And then it erupted into a madness so complete

A joy so pompous

As soft lips wrapped around my thick organ

Engulfed in a moist warmth,

I grew inside her tiny mouth

And she took most of me deep down her throat

Till I was no more myself

Than the pleasure that emanated

As her lips rode the length of my shaft

With unparalleled fervor.

 

I must have reached a thousand wild climaxes

Before I came with the rapturous delight

Of the wildfire burning through forests,

Into her mouth, she gurgled and swallowed,

Tasting my seed that danced on her alien palate

And spilled down a little

The thick fluid glistened on her bare breasts

Hung on for an everlasting second

And fell down onto the blessed land below.

 

She stood up, a naked goddess before me,

Her breasts still shining under thick cum,

Sporting a notorious smile as she buttoned up her tattered shirt

I noticed the marks we had left

The scars, fresh and red in the faint glow,

Told a story of pleasure born of pain

We were young back then,

The pleasures would abate,

The fires of youth do eventually burn low,

But the first time you fill a woman’s mouth

With the entire juice your testicles could muster

And she looks you in the eye

While swallowing with a smile,

That’s a memory you rejoice

That’s a memory that makes life worthwhile.


2 comments

  • Thanks a lot. Just tried to bring some passion onto paper. Hope I succeeded.

    Aarush Deora
  • Your poem is overflowing with passion. With every line, it pulls me in and leaves me wanting for more. Keep up the great work.

    Uma Menon

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