"... you won’t be taken until I am ready -
for I am in control."
you can feel it in your pores,
So many little disappointments -
the ones who’ve claimed they’re yours.
Tender touches and fawning romances
leave you arid, cold, and bored,
‘Taken’ is your only pleasure -
twisted… tamed, and floored.
Drop the distance…
we’ll make reality from the dream,
for I know what you truly want -
only I know what you need.
The waves of passion will wash you through
until you feel as though you’ve died,
you’ll be taken ‘fore the dawn appears -
and for once be satisfied.
as my scent breaks through your stall,
Extending hands while I lift your arms -
pinning wrists against the wall.
Tease you with the slightest touches
of breath and grind and soul,
you won’t be taken until I am ready -
for I am in control.
as my hand glides up your leg,
the naked heat beneath your skirt -
starts to moan and whine and beg.
As one hand toys with belt of garter
taken with the stocking fare,
the other slides across your back -
a fistful of your hair.
lead you to what I want next ,
Consume the fragrant cherry wood -
shove your face down on my desk.
Raise your skirt above your waist
as I separate your thighs,
your breath is taken by my push -
you can feel me deep inside.
your legs vibrating from the flow,
my thrusts relentless, without mercy -
I can tell you must let go.
Shots of liquid fire pouring,
soaking nylons to the knee,
your everything has now been taken -
you belong to me.
Copyright © 2009 Stone Bryson. All Rights Reserved.
Written July 2009