More Poetry... Our Secret

Keeping up with my last couple of posts, this too, is from one of my posts on Black Poetry Cafe. If you guys haven't been to their website (www.theblackpoetrycafeonline.com), I suggest you go and check out some of the best and brightest poets in America (or as some on there would say "Amerikkka"). They have different styles, forms, vibes, and in the end, you're thourghly impressed, entertained, and inspired. This joint is called "Our Secret" and was posted in the "Erotic Poetry" section. It got me into trouble with a few of the ladies on the site, but, what's wrong with a little controversy within art? Oh, and before I forget, you can order my new book (this is no bullshit, either), "The EL-P", directly from me. Right now, I'm working out a digital deal, so, at LEAST for the current time, it only available in physical form. It's a compilation of short stories and poetry that I've worked on for a couple of years (hence the title, a phonetic spelling of LP for long process, instead of long player), and I believe that everyone will find something to enjoy about it. When you email me, please indicate whether you would like Hardcover or paperback, as prices vary between the two...

Now, with my gratuitous plug out of the way... I present, "Our Secret"...


Our Secret
by r. clark

Meeting was simple.
I got a silver tongue and that's what got your attention,
Heard me bragging with the boys and felt you needed to get a piece of this. Never mind my wife, or that I have a life outside of work, you just want to fuck, right? That's why you cornered me in the hall, asking questions you had answers to already, pushing up close to let me inhale your perfume, I think that's Phermone No. 69, right? Extra emphasis on words with "S", simply stating subtle sentences sexily, has me sensing seductive undertones in statements like, "No one has handles my files like you do..."

I'm not stupid...

And asking me to work late with you on a project not due for another two or three weeks, that sealed my fate.
Low lighting in the office pretty much set all the mood we needed,
While I'm sitting at this conference table, barely able to focus on work for watching you sashay, and lean, exposing carmel flesh,
Enough to have me imagine your breasts pressed against my chest and--- Wait, what am I thinking?
Apparently, you got that message before I could get it out of my mind. And you approach my end of this desk tugging at the hem of your dress,
I don't know if it was a signal or not, but telling me that you wanna taste my cock, caught me off guard. No hesitation, as I'm turned in this chair, and unzipped and then slipped into warmth unfamiliar... I shouldn't enjoy t-this... ooooh, God.... Watching you work is turning me on even more,
See, my wife doesn't like the voyuer in me, so she does it with the lights out, and now your mouth is taking the place of her cold lips, making me forget her name and face, and wanting to tear your skirt away from your waist, and you oblige... "I like it rough," you hiss, tearing open my shirt while rapidly tugging on my dick, while I rub my fingers in and around your clit, playing with moist, shaven lips, wondering if you taste as sweet as I'm imagining you do.
"Lick it... I know you'll like it," you purr, so I flip you upside down, letting my lips soak in your juices for a moment before burying my tongue inside your peach, and savor what I believe is the flavor of a ripe plum, trying to maintain my composure as you moan and hum on what you've dubbed your "Reese Cup"... must be my complexion... Never thought of you as the type to deep throat, but, the more you let slip, the more I want to feel the reflex flinch on the tip and the more I flick my tongue on your clit...
How long before we come?
"Fuck me, please..." you beg, and, we've gone this far, so I
Lay you back on this table and slip inside you, fighting back the pleasure of erupting, while you clutch and squirm, and moan and beg for me to go deeper, and harder...
Heavy pants and devilish smiles, pussy flexes and you pull your own thighs back giving me a clear target, I'm thinking, "I've only seen this shit in porn" and you give me more by licking your hand and giving me the eye as you vigorously rub your pussy.
"Beat this pussy, daddy" you demand, eagerly thrusting your hips back at each stroke, the sounds of flesh striking flesh become the applause of approval you need as you scream out in ecstasy and squirt so hard that it stains the carpet behind me,
"Come for me, please... right here," you instruct, licking your lips and tracing a trail from your lips to your tits, reaching for my piece even as it still strokes within your sugar walls giving me extra friction... You must be a pro, because extra touch means quicker release, and as you ask for the second time for my seed, I pull out, and you kneel in front of me, lightly pulling my lever for the jackpot you desire, and I get to watch you bathe in the creamy white release in amazement...
This is our secret. Now we look at one another through sex-hazed eyes, quietly paying respects to the event we created so many months ago, never acknowledging the attraction, snickering as we pass the same spot where primal lust took the place of vow and commitment. It's this secret that scripts this meaningless memory on this sheet of clear parchment, with all intents of making this reality... invisible.

© 2008 R. Clark