Last Encounter, A Poem

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There is a place
in a far away dreamtime
where you and I
make love
on Indian Time.

That is, outside of time entirely.
Ethereally,
in lucid fantasy.

Desires percolate in rich imagery,
become enunciated in language;
we talk dirty to one another,
savoring our
fervid words
in our waiting bodies,
that burn with anticipation…

Then we meet,
in this imaginary place,
this luxurious bedroom
of dreamtime,
rabid with hunger for each other.
Lips kiss artfully, eyes stare each other down,
tongues go wild,
consuming,
devouring
every inch
of one another,
mixing salty skin with saliva,
hard and soft mingling,
becoming wet, messy,
with the juices
of our passion…
Deliciously wet.

In this dreamy realm of sex,
I suck your cock and swallow you whole.
I drink the elixir of your cum
and it fortifies me to fuck you endlessly.
Here you enter me every which way, spit on me, slap me, bite me,
lick gently the hollow of my back,
delicately,
as you penetrate me from behind,
in and out…
Exquisitely.

Here all fantasies are fulfilled and still more emerge,
as we each understand perfectly
the humanity of each other,
intuitively,
sensitively.

And so we twist our bodies every which way
in pleasure,
moan, scream, pant, speak vulgar poetry to one another…
I eat your ass as you do me, doggy style,
I suck, over and over again your cock, wet
from being inside
the tightness of my asshole;
you reach your fingers up into my pussy,
pressing skillfully,
while you fill me, fuck me,
and make me cum,
again and again,
until we both ejaculate all over each other,
savoring the sweetness of our own nectar,
with our tongues
licking, sucking, kissing, teasing,
playfully…

Rhythmically, gracefully…

So hot…

So this is dreamtime,
a fleeting dream, real,
imagined, insubstantial, surreal,
an ephemeral imago
of making love to
to Santiago.

Lore of the Passion for Life

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You were a match
struck upon me.
Within anticipating air we sparked
like flint.

And so I ignited
with the flame of desire,
exquisite anguish
spreading molten hot
between my thighs.

You entered me.
Unlocked me with your key.
Undid me.
Undid the buttons,
undid the strings,
bared me to my panties,
fingered wetness and lace,
opened the pink lips of my labia like a gate,
and came inside me.

You penetrated me.
You took me.
Made me tremble.
You were inside my mouth, inside my pussy, inside my ass,
inside my mind, inside my heart.
I found you inside my void,
an ephemeral imago.
I lay there naked, vulnerable, turned inside out to touch the edges of you,
to feel your skin against mine,
to smell the incense smoke in your hair.

You took advantage of me.
I was ripe like fruit;
lunch for a hungry ghost.
You bit my breasts, pressed the warmth of your tongue against my nipples, teased with your teeth.
We ate each other.
I sucked.
I swallowed.
But like a burning bush,
that burns in the radiance of the divine fire,
I was never consumed.

Delicious
the moment of passion can be.
Mysterious and luminous
the stories of this life shine like many suns
over the darkness
of each heart’s nighttime.
And some are so good
that they become told
and retold,
smoldering in the recounting
like a wood stove warming the house,
and flaring, as their tinder is stoked,
to become lore,
long into the night…
until the fire goes out.