poetry

The Tryst

ā€‹

The friend, she refused to be a third wheel, a mere wall flower, 

upon the wee hours of trash talking, a tryst formed, 

taking the steamiest, 

shower.

One accord decision to pull no stops,   future wife’s gift, to the bachelor, right there on the spot.

A party of party’s,  

no need for porn or stripper’s,  

home was the bar and

he’d be the tipper.

Spoken boundaries, 

adhered rules, 

complete understanding, 

no worries of duel’s.

Everything done to be a work of art, 

nothing passed over, 

nothing turned down, 

all fair game, 

to exhibit, excited sounds.

 Assistant to helpful push, 

visually stimulated to slap an extra tush,  

euphoric’s dazzling

a heightened rush, 

goosebumps in a trio’s touch, 

open minded awakings, to influence sleeping lust.

3rd alliance, 

to sworn promised trust, 

an erotic tip’s angle,  

sharing of the brush, 

a stroke of ideas, 

an erect entangled crush.

Sips of Brandy, 

a toke of kushes, 

massaging hands meet juicy bushes, a standing branch, 

double teamed, 

by oozes, 

squirts and awaited cream’s. 

The longest rides to shortened stays, countless nights, 

that turned to days.

Satisfaction became a live-in, 

from days, weeks, to months, 

seeking built-in needs– 

that included unlimited pumps.

A few selfless bets,  

dared drinking game or two, multiple erection, 

orgasms,

soaking wet’s, 

occasional tongue renewals. 

Once heat subsided, 

memories are set.

The performances of a lifetime, 

the Tryst, will never forget.

Explicit Mature Content 18+

Poetry By Tamara Dorsey-Moore
Thinker on the Loose

Copyright (c) 2017 Reserved purposes intended.

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