Exclusive Poetry: Enrapture Me

his eyes enrapture me
and i surrender yes
'cause everything about
him makes me sing those sweet
melodies like la la
ooh la la la la
heart flutters inside me
succulent words he speaks
delicious arousal
immediate actions
his lips caress my own
feel his hands touching me
it's so right wonderful
we so right together
see i conform to him
he to i perfection
abundant reasons
of why i stay dreaming
about us him me we
pleasurable whispers
caress and seduce me
tangy touches oh yes
can't wait for the first
coming together yes
you know that good that yes
that damn ooh shit passion
universal shifting
mouthwatering passion
i cry oceans of tears
happiness of being loved
by another so real
so true can this really
be the manner of love

Chain of Illusions

Note: This is not erotica. I wrote this one for someone not because she requested it, but because it spoke her truth. These are the words that she couldn't say, but I could. So I wrote what she felt. Hope you enjoy.

We had that magical epitome type love

where touches magnified mutual feelings.

The scent of you excited my senses

and in every sense I see, hear, feel, taste, smell you.

To have you reciprocate and paint your feelings on forbidden

makes my breath become shallow as I replay us.

The way you artistically painted thoughts on me,

our primal sounds and carnivorous activity. 

The experience of you and I conceiving intense passion

resulted in multiplicity: days, nights, and that in between

when we joined and became one.

While exchanging thoughts and toying with these feelings

we were unaware that we were flirting with danger.

Because now happy moments are no more

and these experiences of you and I, I and you,

We, somehow became separate entities. 

No longer same and now I'm no longer sane

because we're different and far away.

Our quest for the highest high has ceased and feelings too. 

I watch as you fail to see me in every way. 

You erase my touches, no longer hear my words.

Invisibility every day and questions formulate

in this confused psyche of mind

asks how we went from singular to plural, 

plural to singular and now we're just singular

no longer fitting in each other's molds.

I am confused, stuck between fantasy and reality, 

the we and the not us.

Were those times of passion just imagined, is what I question.

Enjoyable it was at first but this unquenchable thirst has me

pondering the thoughts of us

and to think you were the better half of me 

makes me question my ability 

to decipher truth and illusion .

But as I think about it I realize that we did what 

so many are guilty of and confused the 

two four letters words of lust and love,

so what we had wasn't blissful love but dejected lust. 

We allowed the feelings we had for others 

to be imagined in each other and like children

we played games with each other

fooling the other into thinking something was there

when there really wasn't anything.

Fools were made of ourselves as we thought

and thought and thought some more

while we simultaneously played and played

and played yet more.

Both of us were successful at the attempts

yet so unsuccessful when it came to truth and reality.

We're guilty of arresting the other's hearts 

and tying it down with the chains of illusions. 

But somewhere between the illusions and lust

my feelings became real

and I saw in you what I wanted in others

and I know that mine is real. 

Aphrodisiac Part II

It's our anniversary weekend, and I can't wait to see what you've planned. I come home to find my bags packed and ready to go. After kissing me, you blindfold me, lead me to the car, and we drive off. I feel the road twist and turn, with moments of brief hills and my stomach drops. I hate that. 

"Where are we going?" I ask as we round yet another curve.

"Can't tell," you reply in that thick Spanish accent. "But we will be there soon."

Shortly after, we come to a stop and I wait for you to open my door. I hate being blindfolded, but love the mysterious aspects of this all the same. I sniff the air. Fresh, country, clean, maybe a hint of saltiness. 

"Are you going to tell me where we are?" I ask because I'm so damn curious.

"You'll see soon mami," is your reply.

With you guiding me, we walk inside and I hear the crackling of a fire. Whose house? I wonder.

"Before I remove the blindfold, I am going to do something to you," my love whispers in my ear. "But first, sit here." He helps me sit on a couch of some sort. What could this man have done? What is he planning?

He comes back some time later humming a sweet Spanish song. He picks me up and instantly I put my arms around his neck. There is no fabric touching my arms. Curiously, my hands touch him. He's naked. He's stepping carefully---stairwell, I'm guessing-- and before I know it, he places me on a high, plush surface. A bed.

"Baby," I whisper and I don't know why.  I'm enjoying this whole situation.

"No, no. Shh." His hands go to my waist and unzip my skirt. It slips down my legs and over my feet. My stilletos are still on.

"Keeping the stilettos on," you say, reading my mind. Still can't understand how you do that.

My silk blouse is removed. Underwear slides down. Bra stays on.

And it begins.

He takes my arms, place them over my head. I feel fabric on my wrists. I'm tied to the posts. More scarves around my ankles. 

"I'll be back," his voice trails down the hallway.

He's back in no time. "What did you get?" I whisper.

He answers me by placing something icy cold on my thigh.

"Shit," I whisper. "You got popsicles."

"Si," he answers. "Cherry flavored."

I feel the popsicle as it goes up and down my legs, to the inner part of thighs, up my stomach. He kisses my thighs while his hands are busy with the popsicle. Lips on the ones between my legs. Popsicle circling my breasts. Melting on my flesh. His tongue parts those lips, finds my rosebud, and gently takes his time with it. I sing him approvals. My voice rises and rises and rises. I hear him unwrap another popsicle, then he says, "I hope you're ready for this."

"Oh shit," is all I can say.

He mounts me, automatically my legs wrap around his strong, tight body. The popsicle enters my mouth at the exact moment his flesh enters me. I suck as he strokes. More sucking, more stroking. My orgasms are so exhilarating, so fulfilling, so extraordinary--with a popsicle in my mouth the moans are deeper and longer. I clamp him tighter and he strokes faster. 

We come together.

"Happy anniversary," he whispers.

Aphrodisiac Part I

Note: This is the first erotica piece that I wrote, back in June 2008. This is the piece that started it all. Enjoy.




Tired and frustrated from a long workday, I open the front door and the smell of vanilla candles assaults my senses. I smile. Hundreds of rose petals trail the hallway and creep up the dark mahogany stairwell. I follow. As I walk down the hall to our bedroom I hear the sweet and sensual sounds of soft jazz. My favorite. I open the French doors leading to our bedroom and find more rose petals, chocolate fondue, and red wine. Sensual sigh.


"Come inside mami," I hear you say from the bathroom. I respond.


You remove my clothing piece by piece, taking your time, massaging me slowly. I shudder. I step inside, the water calming and warm. How wonderful. You turn off the lights and fill two glasses with red wine. Excitement builds. You step inside, hand me a glass, and we toast to our love. It's forever. Slowly, you bathe my body and make me feel special. How lovely. You carry me into the bedroom, kissing me everywhere. I'm lucky. As I lie on my back, you wipe me down, your hands traveling places and affecting nerves I never knew existed. I moan.


You reach over and grab a bottle of scented oil. Coconut, the scent of passion. Heart accelerates. You teasingly poor it over my body: my milk chocolate B-cup breasts, my toned stomach, my thighs, my feet. Can't wait. You start at my toes, sucking them slowly, sending signals from my toes to my brain, making my nerves jump in that special way. I'm impressed.


As you move up my body, paying special attention to my breasts, sucking as if you're an infant, yearning to taste the mother's milk for the first time. I moan. You, my caramel, Spanish lover, kiss me. My forehead. 
You kiss me again. My eyes.
And again. My nose.
And again. My mouth. 
And again. My ear. 
And again.My neck. 


Oh, how you make a trail from my lips to my navel with soft kisses. Melt me.
You hand me a rose. "For you," you say. "You are as soft and beautiful as a rose." I smile.
You walk to the door. I'm confused. 
"No worries, mami," you say as if you can read my mind. "I'll be back." I'm glad.


As I lie waiting for you, my caramel lover, I think about how my bad day is like the transformation of a caterpillar to a butterfly. How beautiful. You come back with a bowl of ice cream. Mint chocolate chip. My favorite. As you sit on the bed, you take a spoonful and feed it to me. Your queen. I savor the rich and creamy taste. So good. You get more, placing the spoonful inside your mouth before bending over and kissing me, the icy coldness a definite contrast to our body heat. Opposites attract.


Oh, how I long to have you inside me. How I yearn to feel your masculinity meet my femininity and we become one, the Ultimate Entity.


You poor warm chocolate on my breasts and watch as it travels down my stomach to my womanhood. Can't wait. Slowly, you lick here, suck there, nibble elsewhere. Talented man. Down you travel to the abyss that is me, reaching the end of the chocolate river. I sigh.


"Como te quiero yo a ti," you whisper softly. Lovely accent.


Slowly, teasingly, and so damn appeasingly, you savor my womanhood. I shudder. Oh, how it feels to have you there tasting the mix of me and warm chocolate. Damn good. I run my fingers through your hair, rub my hands over your body, touching you. Anywhere. Everywhere. When you come back up, I slowly raise my head to devour your kisses mixed with my juices. Delicious flavor.


"Tu eres la estrella, mi corazon," you tell me as you tease my body so slowly, so carefully I want to scream. Enter now.


My wish is granted and as you stroke and we create a rhythm so filled with love, my heart accelerates and my eyes tear. Real love. My caramel lover kisses my tears away as he pumps, and whispers Spanish sweet nothings into my ear. Te quiero. 

Feelings

A white shirt. A red rose. Bottles of wine. 
Why am I feeling this way?
I don't even know what I'm feeling. 
His sweat pleases me.
I want to capture it, place it in solitary confinement.
Marry his essence and make love to his taste.
Hair. Tangled sheets. Feelings.
Fuck. Why do I feel this way?
He moves me across time and parallel universes.
Mesmerized by carnal hunger.
Sip. Taste. Swallow.
How could he bring me these feelings?
Cross legs. Pleasure sensations. Tighter.
I remember when I could feel him from far away
and my yoni would pulsate.
I couldn't help myself and I chose to be submissive.
Tick. Tock. Clock.
Is he feeling the same way?
Does he crave to join two into one?
Captivate my love, steal my soul.
So I can exhale, breathe, and become us. 

Release

NOTE: It's not flat out erotica, but something I dabbled with for a moment while taking a writing break from another piece I was working on. Enjoy. 

i ponder past thoughts of us

exploring

taking 

receiving

they do nothing for me now

toes don't curl

breath staccato not

empty

empty

empty

are your words now and even then

though i declined to listen

those sweet nothings were 

just that indeed

stupid

love 

lust

good for me i thought

bad to me you were

erotic spoke and i obeyed

sense of common i ignored

freedom

from 

you

Update

I know, I know. It's been weeks since I posted new poetry, but I have been really busy since my last entry. Between family vacation, getting ready to head back to college, and other stuff not worth mentioning, I've written a few pieces here and there, just not erotica. I don't want to say that I'm not in the mind frame to write erotica because I always am, but I just cannot get the poetry fragments from my mind to screen without it now flowing the way that I want it too. Another reason I don't want to post everything here is because if I do release a book of my erotic poetry, who'd pay for something that they've already read for free? But I do hope that I can string the words together the way I want them and give you what you've been waiting for.

Lala