Latest Posts by theressurectionpoems - Page 2

A Particular Love

I have a particular love

Of desecrating the innocent,

Particularly

Those who do not think they are.

It's Always the Smile

in the end, it is always her smile. Not to disparage the rest of her, every line and curve and sway. The curls. The glint in her eye. But in the end, it is always the smile. Captivating. Always true. Sexier than a smile should be, you feel like a king, when she submits with that smile, and her subject when she devoirs you.

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

Touch

There is nothing of yours that touches anything of mine that does not excite. 

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

The Last Barrier

“It can be easy or it can be hard. I tell you  as I undo the satin strap. 

The speed and the depth of your breath tell me which as I pull off  the last barrier 

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.

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

A Reminder

Legs high. Taken deep. A second time in as many hours. A reminder. There is no end to my need. And evidently, yours either.

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

Deeper Than Skin

Always, I am in control, until I am not.

It is then I leave marks deeper than skin.

Pretense

Let's not pretend that any touch means anything but "mine."

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

For, Not To

You and I know.  There is no filth involved.  Not between us.  No matter what others would think,  every act,  no matter how it seems,  is done for,  not to. 

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

That Look

That look. Deep into my eyes. That look. That tells me this is far more than pleasure. More than desire. It is Love

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

Mad Love

and then you find yourself in that moment of madness when you not sure whether to pull away or press closer,  the pain pleasure,  and the pleasure pain.  Mad love. 

I love when I find one of my poems from my deleted blog, or in this case, they find me. @owithadash2point0 - thank you!

An Understanding.

I believe you finally understand. Anywhere means.... anywhere. Anything means anything. And mine means only. completely.

Nothing Close to mine

Dressed less. Showing more each time I take you out. Feeling eyes on you. Feeling the hunger of strange men, rabid, wild, but nothing close to mine.

Surrendering

Surrendering involves trust, fear, a discomfort as you are exposed further than you ever expected when you began this journey.

Again

From across the room, I watch. I have seen you naked. I have seen you with walls. I have seen you unbridled, surrendered, wild. I have heard you cry out and heard you cry. Seen you bound and seen you free. And in all I have seen, I have loved you. And will love you still when I see you naked, no matter its form, again.

Lovely blog 💕 😊 😀

Thank you!

Weakness

I have a weakness for you surrendered

The Only Thing I Measure

Forget all they told you. The only thing I measure is how much I love you, how long, and how.

Creation

You could easily believe you made her up

She is that perfect.

A perfection beyond skin and curve and smile

even when you own her, maybe

particularly then. So perfect

that had you not held her

flesh and her heart in your hands,

you would not believe she was real.

You could not have,

even in your dreams, vivid as they are,

created her or the love

her body emanates in every image,

memory and hope.

The Simple Truth

The simple truth is that you are beautiful. Always have been. Always will be. Perhaps none have seen it, too busy with their egos and fears, but that does not change what you are, only how you see yourself.

So let me capture you, with cameras and words, with the soft touch of a lover and the confidence of a man who knows the truth.

The simple truth. You are beautiful.

Not The First. The First

I know I am not the first to see you naked. Not the first to touch you. No, I am sure your body has been touched everywhere by others. I am sure others have pushed their way into you, filled you, gently and roughly both. I am not the first to feel your hands around my shaft. Or your lips. I am not the first to bring you to orgasm. Perhaps not even the first to bring you several of them, one after the other. My cock is not the first to feel the delicate tightness of your throat, the tight depths of your vagina, or the yielding constraint of your ass.

I never expected to be the first when we found each other. We had lives. Past. Past lovers.

But I can tell you this. No man has loved you as deeply. No man has wanted not just your body but your sexy soul. No one, and I sure of this, wanted to take you to experiences that are the first. No one more dedicated to making fantasies real and fill your soul with my sex. No one will ever believe you are magic and spend his life partaking, punishing, exalting you to everyone, but most particularly, to you.

And in time, you will never be reminded of those who came before. Only of us.

Another poem from my old banished blog. Thank you all who saved and share these.

Unconventional

Who every made you believe, lied. Just because no one else has appreciated the curls or the curves or the drive or the emotions and all the beautiful abnormalities that set you apart, does not mean I am wrong in how I see you. It simply means, at long last, after a lifetime of settling, neither of us need to.

So bear yourself to me, one more time. Show me the flesh that is mine. Let me love you with all the tenderness of a night with wine and conversation before we break out the whips and the chains each of us finding satisfaction finally, without limits, unconventional, and so right.

Another of my poems from my banished blog. I love finding these!

Timeless Night

A little laughter. A little conversation. A bit of flirting. The gentlest of foreplay. Time. Or perhaps timelessness. Paying no attention to it, only each other, with an intensity that is gradual, like crabs in a pot, the heat rising slowly, the dance growing, more and more frantic, the heat suddenly all, passion, and more, life turned to a desperation for each other, for penetration, need, until finally, the little death in a cry and overwhelming. Gasps for breath. until it begins again. A little laughter in our timeless night.

A poem from my banned blog. Thank you to all who send me these!

A Reason to Celebrate the New Year

Somehow, in every place you offer,

I fit. Perhaps stretching the boundaries at first,

But always, in the end,

In the tightest, most forbidden places

That no one sees,

I fit.

By the Time I am Sated

Ah, the time I will take with you. Your arms tied high. Your legs spread. Dressed in nothing but heels and a collar. Teetering. Exposed. Unsure where you are, only that for the next few hours, every square inch of your body will be touched. At times softly. At times roughly. Your body mine, and by the time I am sated, your soul as well.

No Wonder

Even knowing what is about to be done to that mouth yet again, you smile. No wonder I adore you.

Sometimes Submissive

Sometimes submissive has nothing to do with ropes and chains. There are no harsh commands or red marks left by hands and crops or chains. It is simply staying still as I take you in. Look at you, a woman no one would suspect contains such passion. Savoring each curve and your perfect skin. Knowing all that others cannot see, all that would amaze and scare and thrill them about you

is mine

After the First One

There is a point, after the first one, the line crossed, the fantasy lived, your spirit and body pushed past what you imagined you would ever do.

There is a moment, when you are in my arms in the afterward, that you realize what you have done, and that you have become that rarity, a woman who is willing to live what you want, take it, be taken, the first border breached and you realize

that the first wall is always the hardest, and the next one, and oh yes, there will be a next one, is inevitable, for you are not the same woman as you were. And never will be again.

=================

If you have ever been pushed past what you thought were your boundaries sexually, you know.

I love it when I find a poem from my deleted blog that I can repost to my new on. In this case the poem found me. A Reader from London refound me and shared two. Thank you!

Just As...

And just as you think you have found every possible way to submit... I prove you wrong.

I love it when I find a poem from my deleted blog that I can repost to my new on. In this case the poem found me. A Reader from London refound me and shared two. Thank you!

Once Again

And afterwards, you are spent, your legs draped over the furniture, the flush in your cheeks, the look of amazement that once again you have been moved a little more beyond, forced by permission, and later by desire to become, once again, something new.