Archive-name: Poetry/sensexpe.txt
Archive-author: Mary Prior
Archive-title: Sensual Expectations


	   copyright 1979

Breathing deeply, I close my eyes
   and let my body waken,
Lying quietly, I feel myself tremble,
   contemplating delight.
Unsure of what will come, I feel
   the warm wetness of a mouth
      nestling in the hollow
         of my throat --
Softly and sensuously nuzzling, nipping.

Hot breath, like butterfly wings,
   brushes my neck;
lips, not quite touching --
   hovering, hesitating ... gone.

I will my eyes shut,
   to let my body learn
      to see, to sense, to be aware.

I'm conscious of a nearness;
   and a hand smoothes my breast
      lingering at the nipple,
         kneading and circling;
            then to the other breast.
My flesh responds as a light current
   courses through my skin -- and deeper.
Then the tongue, hot and hard, probes
   the rise of my belly and returns
      again to my breasts,
         sucking, pulling them erect!
That tongue, its mouth hungry
   and feasting on my flesh, probes lower
Hot and moist, it touches the edges and
   flings me into an abyss of sensation.
Warm wetness washes over me,
   swirling and around, like a whirlpool
   reaching to suck me
      into its center.
I must not resist, must let myself be
   drawn into an inevitable teasing prelude
      to an orgasmic concerto.
I lie here: open, willing, waiting, 
      desiring, demanding!
Impatience makes my need sharper,
   more hungry.

NOW! PLEASE!
... and the tongue slowly descends
Lips wrap around my shrieking center
   gently encouraging my fierce spasms
      of delight --- drawing out all
         inhibitions and exiling them
            to another dimension.


Delight fast becomes sensual
   torture -- as it's meant to be,
Teasing, tempting, tantalizing --
   until I'm ready to scream
      my need! Ready to force the
         culmination
my body insists must come!

I catch my breath and breathe raggedly,
   Lips move again to my breasts
      and my neck and my lips.
My slick thighs open, wanting --
      yet not wanting -- an end,
I feel your firmness, your
   velvet hardness -- your MALENESS
      against my thighs, pushing gently,
teasing me, opening me just enough
   to make me want more ... NOW!

But you withdraw and I can sense,
   almost see how close you wait
      for me to come beyond need -- to
         become necessity -- absolute!

... and you begin again, slowly
entering, waiting, pushing --
   not withdrawing -- sliding further
      as I wrap myself around you and
         caress you inside myself.

Now faster and harder, not yet
   with rhythm -- infinitesimally
      different and more exciting!

I ache and arch -- and the rhythm
   begins. We thrust and move
      together, working to consummate
      this flesh-oriented work of art.
There is nothing left in this time 
   and space but my flesh
      and my primeval need.

I no longer think
      or wonder
            or desire:

   I am no more.


--