The Sounds Of Darkness

More than Sex

More Than Sex

Your back arches with each thrust.  Your back, supple and soft,  feels the hard table under you,  feels the hard thrust of my cock,  feels the power of my love as I look down,  my hands grasping your hips,  my eyes devouring you, as I slide in you,  again and again.  Not content to feel you,  my desire is to own you,  to make you mine in a way you never could have imagined wanting,  to make you cry out in a soulful desire and surrender,  to fill you, not just with my shaft,  not just with the warm liquids of love,  but with something deeper,  that plunges your depths,  and touches your heart with each mad thrust. 

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I have been gifted a trove of poems from my banned "Other Poems" blog. So I will be posting some of those between my newer ones. This poem is from the older blog.

One of my poems from my deleted blog.

The power of submission

I look down to you on your knees,  this vibrant, powerful woman,  half dressed, submissive,  hungry, oh so hungry to please,  waiting for my touch,  waiting for my command and I am more than aroused.  I am humbled. 

Reminder

Reminder

Every now and then I have to remind you whose mouth it is.

Dangerous

I always believe beyond the odds, the time, the distance, that the fantasies we dream have space to become reality. Too many already have for me to think otherwise.

And that is what makes every moment we are together dangerous.

A Memory in Pink

She wore pink lingerie,

And I looked at her, no gazed at her

Like it was the first time.

That is the way it has always been with her,

Ever new. Perfect for all the reasons she believes

herself not to be.

Perhaps it was not on for long,

But it did not matter. She wore it for me,

knowing full well the effect the gift would have on me.

Passion enflamed. Senses suddenly vibrant.

Heart lost to her yet again. My heart touched

As much as my body.

It is true that she submits to me,

But I am forever lost in her.

Both of us, exactly as we should be.

Releasing the Collar

The hardest thing is to let go, release the collar after an age of your gift of submission, to see you, dressed for a world that can never own you as I do.

But, I smile as you rub the marks of collar and crop. The memories will hold me until you need what only I can give, and take what only you have.

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So many people believe submission is about forcing control. No, it is about surrendering control, and treating that surrender with all the respect it deserves.

And if you are fortunate, and have that kind of relationship, it is glorious. It is hard to go back. If you are more fortunate, you never will.

I hope that this is ok with you. If not, please let me know and I will delete it immediately.

Of course! Thank you.

Tom

Not Just Lust

You wipe the last drop of another man's cum, the fourth tonight, your lips uncertain, knowing I have watched each one take their pleasure with you, knowing I have seen your own pleasure with perfect strangers. Your eyes too, uncertain whether I will still want you, whether I feel the same as I felt a few hours ago, just as in love, just as passionate, the kind of passion we have always had, built on more than lust for your body, built on knowledge of who you are, needs, flaws, and glorious imperfections and even this, the dream finally fulfilled as I watch. You look up, waiting, and then, seeing.

No, my love. Nothing has changed as I wrap my fingers in your head and guide your puffy tender lips to my swollen shaft, eager to feel what they did not. Not just lust, love.

When, or If

The thing is, I always start tender and for a few moments, maybe more, you are uncertain how you will bring me pleasure, when, or if the caress will turn into a sharp slap, when, or if your tender pink nipple will find itself clamped, chained or twisted. When, or if, you go from lover to slave and back again.

I love when one of my poems from my deleted blog finds me!

Always Balancing

Every night we are together is dangerous, always balancing pleasure and pain,  enough and too much,  love and lust.