"Public Display (Afternoon Happenstance)"

Public Display (Afternoon Happenstance)


In dire need.
My need is high...
Eyeing knee highs
that encase these thighs
that have found rest and refuge
across my broad shoulders.
You see, 
she told me to hold her.
Her skin was much colder;
but contact incurs warmth
and a high degree of moisture.


Ringing with perspiration.
Teeming with anticipation.
Looking to erase all inclinations
that may impede ensuing precipitation.
Unorthodox events are coupled
with familiar situations.
Such potent emotions are doubled;
adding more to each sensation.
We never remain stationed:
She craves sporadic stimulation.
No rituals or concentration.
Just definitive domination.


Hands around hips.
Her body surveyed by my lips;
coasting across her like a ship
letting my mind take a trip
in anxious thirst for a sip.
Let it drip.
And drip 
And drip;
Ready for me to slip;
But I continue to lick
and slop
and sop up;
gulping every drop up.
Keeping her legs propped up.
My head may never pop up.
Eventually, I decide to stop.
There will be more later to mop up.


Satin sheets envelop this bed
surrouded by square pegs
and a mirror overhead
whilst I'm nestled between her legs.
I'd do right not to make her beg.
My lead performance gives her trust
that it should go without saying:
Relentless passion is a must.
Every stab.
Every thrust.
Every moan and groan
reveals how much she will condone
of this power that I've honed.
Unruly pain is her comfort zone.
Previous victors have been dethroned.
I am sovereign. I stand alone.
My love is rare.
There are no clones.
We embrace, wet and bare.
Her vacant plains are now my home.


Her glasses tip over.
Sheets fall as she flips over.
Back arched.
Bent over.
I'm lushed and parched;
but still lustfully sober.
I give hard, passionate strides
as I take her for a ride.
She gyrates what I take thrusts at
and challenges me to thrust back.
I give more.
She comes back.
I speed it up.
She wants that.
I beat it up.
She loves that.
She smiles as she looks back
and continues to push back.


I fell into this hole.
This syrup sweet vice grip.
She sees I'm losing control;
confounded by her tight lips.
Nice lips.
Open eyes.
Knees on the floor.
Working with vigor.
Churning out her surprise.
More than ready for what's in store.
She aggressively asks for more.
Quite demanding when she implores.


Doing what she touts and boasts;
making good on that which she gloats.
Her exposed tonsils allow me to float
until I land at the back of her throat.
Tears well as I start swelling.
She can sense that I'm ready;
so she gently shakes her jelly
whilst I freely fill her belly.
We've done worse in the best of ways;
and this was just the middle of the day.
All passers by had little to say
of our undraped window and public display.


Written By: Devin Joseph Metz