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Archive-name: Poetry/sensexpe.txt

Archive-author: Mary Prior

Archive-title: Sensual Expectations





	   copyright 1979



Breathing deeply, I close my eyes

   and let my body waken,

Lying quietly, I feel myself tremble,

   contemplating delight.

Unsure of what will come, I feel

   the warm wetness of a mouth

      nestling in the hollow

         of my throat --

Softly and sensuously nuzzling, nipping.



Hot breath, like butterfly wings,

   brushes my neck;

lips, not quite touching --

   hovering, hesitating ... gone.



I will my eyes shut,

   to let my body learn

      to see, to sense, to be aware.



I'm conscious of a nearness;

   and a hand smoothes my breast

      lingering at the nipple,

         kneading and circling;

            then to the other breast.

My flesh responds as a light current

   courses through my skin -- and deeper.

Then the tongue, hot and hard, probes

   the rise of my belly and returns

      again to my breasts,

         sucking, pulling them erect!

That tongue, its mouth hungry

   and feasting on my flesh, probes lower

Hot and moist, it touches the edges and

   flings me into an abyss of sensation.

Warm wetness washes over me,

   swirling and around, like a whirlpool

   reaching to suck me

      into its center.

I must not resist, must let myself be

   drawn into an inevitable teasing prelude

      to an orgasmic concerto.

I lie here: open, willing, waiting, 

      desiring, demanding!

Impatience makes my need sharper,

   more hungry.



NOW! PLEASE!

... and the tongue slowly descends

Lips wrap around my shrieking center

   gently encouraging my fierce spasms

      of delight --- drawing out all

         inhibitions and exiling them

            to another dimension.





Delight fast becomes sensual

   torture -- as it's meant to be,

Teasing, tempting, tantalizing --

   until I'm ready to scream

      my need! Ready to force the

         culmination

my body insists must come!



I catch my breath and breathe raggedly,

   Lips move again to my breasts

      and my neck and my lips.

My slick thighs open, wanting --

      yet not wanting -- an end,

I feel your firmness, your

   velvet hardness -- your MALENESS

      against my thighs, pushing gently,

teasing me, opening me just enough

   to make me want more ... NOW!



But you withdraw and I can sense,

   almost see how close you wait

      for me to come beyond need -- to

         become necessity -- absolute!



... and you begin again, slowly

entering, waiting, pushing --

   not withdrawing -- sliding further

      as I wrap myself around you and

         caress you inside myself.



Now faster and harder, not yet

   with rhythm -- infinitesimally

      different and more exciting!



I ache and arch -- and the rhythm

   begins. We thrust and move

      together, working to consummate

      this flesh-oriented work of art.

There is nothing left in this time 

   and space but my flesh

      and my primeval need.



I no longer think

      or wonder

            or desire:



   I am no more.





--



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