It Began With A Kiss
Perfectly formed, wild, yet pure,
Passionate, hot and far from demure.
Juicy and red, yet not to much shine,
How lucky am I, knowing they're mine?
Grasping your waist, gently at first,
It's how we begin, fulfilling our thirst.
Stroking your hair, I look deep in your eyes,
They show your desires, and they're no surprise.
Finally close, your lips, I will lick,
The tip of my tongue, may do the trick.
Encircling your mouth, tasting you, sweet,
Finally ready, our lips, start to meet.
Our eyes slowly close, as the world fades away,
So long in coming, we dreamed of this day.
Although you are ready, you begin to resist.
You fear you forgot, being decades unkissed.
Our bodies entwined, you begin to transform.
Your lips open slightly, your passion reborn.
Drinking your soul, the very last sip,
Ingesting it slowly, your resistance, it slips.
Inhaling your gasp, tasting your dreams,
Slowly at first, my tongue in between.
Stroking you gently, a gasp from your throat,
Our souls start to merge, while our bodies, they float.
Once separate, now one, our flesh slowly melds,
Engulfed in my arms, and with passion you're held.
Slowly, so slowly, our heat starts to rise,
Our tempo, it quickens, while thrusting our thighs,
The clock says forever, you scream, then you sigh,
For us, however, twas the blink of an eye
While clasping each other, our juices, they blend,
Our ecstasy not over, and we wish to extend,
This moment together, we begin, all anew,
Perhaps we'll go three, at least we'll do two.
Our passions, together, unimaginable bliss,
And to think that it all, began with a kiss.
Copyright © 2013 -
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(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
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Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
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(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
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