Like a hard spank, it just hit me.
I’ve been trying to put into Words
the Intensity of some of the most
tremendous, terrible, tactile
sensuous, serious, sensory
experiences in my life.
The apprehension beforehand,
the thrill when he tells me what he intends,
the fear as he puts me in my place,
the chill when he bares my backside,
the Naked desire for his caress, his slaps,
his lecture, all his attentions.
Wriggles turning to whimpers,
mews becoming moans,
crying out then crying in wracking sobs.
Anticipation in my loins
realized in moisture and heat and ache,
relieved with light touches and tickles,
diddles and deep finger strokes,
a wanton Want for more.
My punishment induces his lust,
he brushes his erection along my slit
teasing me, making me arch to him,
open and in need.
He doesn’t put it
where it belongs,
but trails it up my crack,
touches it to my tight dimple.
“You don’t deserve pleasuring,
you need more punishing…”
“No, it’s wrong, forbidden,
don’t, it won’t fit, oh,
oh… it’s so Good, it’s so sinful and…”
You see? I can’t translate
the supremely sublime into simple sentences,
the most carnal into the most ethereal,
the dirty deeds into described divinity,
but still I try,
living in hope for Inspiration.