Nurture

by f-cynyr ©

You, my troubled pet,
tight and jerking with stress
and wound with grief from a
sharp cutting world.

You crawl to me,
rub against my leg,
your eyes pleading
for the strength of my hand.
and the release it would bring.

Naked across my lap,
I stretch you,
I caress that
creamy Irish ass,
circling each tender
cheek,
I twirl my finger along
the curling D that is
your brand.
Then lightly, I
wisp a smack on your
trembling bottom.

Smack, then thud,
whack, then caress,
slap, then probe
swelling lips,
the hypnotic rhythm
starting your voyage.

Each cheek twitches,
then softens,
I randomly clout
from cheek to cheek,
tenderly increasing
until your body loosens,
until you begin to flow.

Ass pale as moonlight,
then with slap after slap
it buds soft tender pink,
then blooms rose,
finally blossoming burning red.

My hands slide along
thighs, to spread
swelling lips, to
ever so slightly enter
your glistening grotto,
and then lightly
graze your nub.

Checking between swats,
moist and wet,
increasing in impact
and thud and sting.

Your breath grows rhythmic,
your body liquid,
your eyes become hooded.
You begin leaking long tendrils, and
my two probing fingers come away
drenched,
as the smacks thud
down upon red
throbbing cheeks,
until I see you tumble
deeper,
into your space.

I have brought you
to your core,
to find your inner
balance,
connected you to your Tao to
drift and float in the stream
of your self.
So then, for a while, you
are whole and complete,
my treasured selkiepet.

I then reel you in,
bring you back to my care

Still in your fugue, you are
then wrapped and rocked
and held,
your desire quenched, spirit nurtured,
you curl and rub into me
then drift safely, cherished
into a contented doze.

Polarity

A Dom friend of mine approached me knowing that I kept a bdsm poetry blog and asked if I would post some poems written by his submissive/slave moonglowkitten.
I didn't have a problem with this in fact I told him I would be happy to do so. Her poems are interesting, erotic, and from a unique perspective. So periodical
moonglow kitten will post her erotic poems on this blog.
I hope you enjoy them.
If you wish to reach moonglow you can do so using my email.


POLARITY
by moonglowkitten ©

She, on her knees,
unzips him,
fingers tripping over
themselves, tangled
in anticipation.
He, blunt,
swatting them away
like bluebottle flies.

Her mouth gapes
expectantly,
he opens his pants
with a pop.

She breathes in his scent of
creation
and fills her lungs with
the cloying musk
of his desire.
Swaddled in the
tendrils and ropes
of his ridged need,
she becomes drunk on
the captivating aroma
of his drooling
promise

He, impatient,
urgent,
yanks her hair,
and in short, quick
jabs, drives his swollen wish
into her cheeks, her chin,
finally finding her dainty
mouth.

She revels in the
sleek firmness,
her tongue tastes and
savors each subtle
flavor and nuance.
The sweet taste of him
overpowers her need,
and she floats in the
Tao of his being.
Slowly she devours each
tasty morsel, each subtle
bouquet and nuance
of cock and pre-cum.
Her tongue and lips
savor and memorize
each ridge, each contour,
each change in texture and taste,
of that loving part of him,
that he shares.

Frantically,
he shoves in and out,
in and out,
no pausing,
racing to find that final
euphoria and after-calm
as speedily as possible.
His hand tangles in her hair
and yanks, stinging her
scalp,
as he jack hammers
into her mouth.
He briefly spasms,
clutching her closer,
as he spurts
down her throat.
He trembles a few times,
waits a moment, then
done, he
rapidly withdraws.

In the midst of her
bliss,
he floods her with
his essence,
his delicious, creamy
wine,
filling the goblet of her
mouth.
She swirls the claret of him
around, savoring each
creamy, thick drop,
before swallowing
while still gorging
on the ambrosia of him,

He abruptly pulls away
zips up,
quickly pulling her to
her feet,
saying we have to go.

Speechless , still savoring
the orgasmic flavor of him,
she, feeling denied somehow,
obediently follows.

Scent of Contentment

by f-cynyr ©

The embrace becomes
a quick clutter of scurrying hands,
of frantic peeling and unmasking to
exposure and final reveal.
Urgent interrogating lips
stumble in the slide
along ripe scented skin.

Craving flows swollen hunger along
folds and mounds until
escaped passions
unfurl and
trail across tender inner thighs,
to a crease slick with
pleading.

Lips mumble and slur,
prompting tongue to swirl
nipples hardened
in the tumble to defection.

The scrabble of hands
and stutter of lips, snared and
beguiled by pleading surrender,
are released into the final reveal.

In the heart and whisper
of rapture,
the furling of limbs and hands
quenched and collected,
ease into the soft tousle
and scent of contentment.

For Blue [revised]

by f-cynyr ©

The blue bewitched me into
the yonder of awe as the
thunder tumbled me
into the burnt sky,
and eased me along the
road to the scar
between sky and wonder,
fusing the gap between I and the
world.

The winds of passing
twirled and fluttered this lone
voyager,
tethered to blue in the
fading gift of sight.
This chosen road shakes and stomps,
as I pass
with a skip of lightning.
I, roped by the twisting
sound of sky dangled in the blue
until I, in wonder, found
that capture of wind
and net of cloud
that tangles my blue in amazement.

When the moon subsides
and gives way to dark,
hope rides the convulsive night,
then kisses the slip of dawn until its
liquid promise
tied my eyes, bound
hands and voice,
and webbed into me
the crisp maybe.

I longed the throbbing night
through the tides of pitch,
until the waves and swell
subsided,
and the dewy gift of dawn
unwrapped me
into the yonder of awe
and the tendrils of thundering
blue embroider hope
into my flesh.

Then the blue of wonder,
wraps me in the treasure
of brown earth and silver storm,
till only the gift of
new blue glints through.

Taste of You.

by f-cynyr ©

I long for your taste,
for you to nestle on my tongue,
to draw you into my mouth,
to savor and swirl that opening bud.

I long for the rhythm
of your breathing
to falter, then quicken,
for you to tremble
and leak with anticipation.

To have your hands
grasping your own swelling breasts,
kneading, pulling, pinching
red swollen nipples.

I stroke you and with questing tongue
pry you open, caress
and fondle lips and folds,
as you melt and ooze
into my gaping mouth.

Hips straining down,
rhythmically gyrate with
every swish of my tongue.
Your lips glaze and part and swell.

I take long firm
strokes,
savoring each nuance as
you heave and twist
and twitch and quiver.

Your body tightens,
grows rigid
and your clenching thighs
capture me, lock me into
your ecstatic frenzy.

Your breath grows short and rapid,
you gulp
as I twirl that succulent
rosebud,
and draw you between
my longing lips.

Your body tenses, grows stiff,
I dance my tongue along
every crease and fold,
urgently lapping,
as you twist and arch.

My finger enters you
and sounds sharp and short
escape drawn lips,
as your fingers pinch and pull
nipples firmer and harder.

Hips push down wantonly,
thighs clutch tighter
and my tongue pirouettes to that
deep core of you,
right through to your center.

A sudden burst of air
escapes your lungs,
you thrash and shout and
gasp,
as you roll over that
peak and down to
the quiet rhythmic twitching
and spasmodic clenching
that my tongue relishes.

I taste your drooling bliss
and barely touch that
tender throbbing joy,
as you clasp
me to you and drift
into a satiated slumber.