Tag Archives: sexual

Inquiring Minds, Poetry Work, The EROTIC ZONE

Landscapes of You

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Landscape

Landscapes of You

As I rise at dawn

and look out upon this landscape

It’s got nothing on you babe.

The mountains can’t touch your heights which I climb

In the morning light and the fertile valley

below is where I’ll go to set up my campfire

and have a weeny roast every night.

Let me fall down hard against your snowy soft skin and make

snow angels with my tongue as I go deep in.

The rivers and streams that meander around me can’t

get any wetter than your bed as I lie at your shore .

Maybe I’ll take a swim in your deep lake and paddle

down to the waterfall where I hear it’s a gusher.

The field of you lays lush and fragrant with undulating

colors of flowering pink and red peonies swaying

enticingly before me as you gyrate those hips below,

stirring the four winds to blow

me away off this wind swept peak

that I cling to with barely a fingertip.

I’ve packed lots of rations, trail mix, water and

peanut butter cups to keep my energy up.

My hike is not over by far, because I’ve got many trails to cover.

I can’t leave any one spot untouched or ignored,

The beauty of this mysterious place I call

paradise must be explored.

The smell of clover and dandelions pervade my senses

as I drink your sweet scent in.

The nearness of you is nature in its most erotic essence

bottled in the pores of

your skin.

By Philip Wardlow

Inquiring Minds, Poetry Work

Wee hours of the Night –

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Jeans pulled down to her ankles…Hours
Knees up
Thighs slightly parted
She thinks of him in the
wee hours of the night
as she touches lightly between
her legs.
The sweet spot where he wishes to go,
to live if only for a moment.
To take her like she wants to be taken
in her secret room
as she lies on her bed
To give him what he wants;
all of her.
She opens her legs wider
to let him take what he wants
she turns over and presents her
ass.
She wants all his gifts.
His hard slap on her is the sweetest
reward she could receive from him as
she pushes her ass upward
to meet each strike of his palm sooner.
She wants it so badly, as she lies in
his bed…
She calls out his name as
her fingers move inside herself
opening and filling her
as he would in the wee
hours of the night
if there.
Written by PhilipWardlow 2016
Inquiring Minds, Poetry Work, The EROTIC ZONE

She Entered – Warning Erotic Content

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She entered the room
wearing red devil lingerie
gave me a smile
and removed the halo from her
head
and hung it upon the bedpost
telling me it would just get in the way.

She pushed me into the chair
that sat across from the bed.
Lingering, she bent in for a
kiss but instead gave
a bite
Then went to her knees.
Lips hard pressed against my cock
still held trapped in my pants.
She blew hard
Hot breath filtered and conveyed
through denim
A furnace to rival my own
Eyes cast up
Hands deft
Zip
Cock exposed, unlocked.
Sly grin as she grabbed with both
hands,
stare she still did
right into me
Relishing each tiny fragment
of this intimate moment.
Step by Step
she walked through my mind
Knowing my need.
I give her hers as
a fistful of hair filled my hands
and forced her down.
Then I entered the scene
and tore into her.

by Philip Wardlow 2016

by Philip Wardlow 2016
Inquiring Minds, Poetry Work, The EROTIC ZONE

In The End

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In The End~

 

“Show me a little more sin,” he said.

You knew the ways of men TheEnd

so you smiled,

giving him a wicked grin,

as you lifted your skirt,

and listed all the

things in your head you

would take from him

in the end.

 

by Philp Wardlow 2016

Inquiring Minds, Poetry Work, The EROTIC ZONE

Desolate Dame

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grabbingbreast

Desolate Dame~

 

 

You give him a grin

and forget it all when he

grabs a breast.

He smiles that same stellar smile

that trapped you so long

ago.

You sweat it all out through sexual labors

and forget…

all the moments meandering

constant in the frontal lobe of your brain that aches

to cut him loose and send him downstream

to go cascading off a cliff.

Yet you play the martyr to his Mussolini,

tied up and tortured in the town square,

while all the passerby’s look the other way.

Weakness.

Doesn’t become you.

Defiance should rule.

But yet you grin all over again

when he grabs your breast.

 

 

Philip Wardlow

Inquiring Minds, Poetry Work, The EROTIC ZONE

In your pants

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pants

Romance exists,

just as much as bullshit exists,

 to get into those tight pants you’re  wearing,

but I want to stay and help with the laundry

and fold those pants with you later.

by Philip Wardlow 2016

Inquiring Minds, Poetry Work, The EROTIC ZONE

Shake it

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I wanted fries with that shake baby,

(she pulls out an order of medium fries from her cleavage)

(I take them)

Thanks, you may continue shaking.

(nom nom nom)

Any ketchup in there?

by Philip Wardlow 2016

FriesKetchup

Inquiring Minds, Poetry Work

Prince of Ravens

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Prince of Ravens~

 

Brown eyes
wolfish grin

With a sword well
used and dangerous
once unsheathed
and finally released.

Shall we dance?

In a ballroom or in
bed.
For both skills come
naturally
to the Prince.
Once he takes you in hand.MatrimCauthon

Dark, and darker
as the lights are dimmed
to hide what some
others call sins.

The ravens fly high
over castle keep
ever watchful
as their prince
delves deep.

Into the many mysteries
of the mind
found between her
legs and more.

What chaos
What wonder.

What beauty will he finally find
In himself

When the dance is done.

 

by Philip Wardlow 2016

 

 

 

Inquiring Minds, The EROTIC ZONE

Now – A Poem

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Ahug

Now~ 

Embracing the fear
The thrill
The escape
Adrenaline rush
Skin warming
You
Your body
Wanted
Must have
Now
No waiting
Whos watching
Who may watch
I dont fucking care
Just bend over
Now

By Philip Wardlow 2015

Inquiring Minds, Poetry Work, The EROTIC ZONE

Stockings – Erotic Poem

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Stockings.
They are to me what the Eiffel towerthighHighPinup
is to France.
An elegant woman
a beauty,
a romance to find on every street corner,
an adventure to be discovered and sought.
Decadence pervades its corners and its twists and turns
as the night encapsulates deeds not seen
during the day.
All eyes look to the tower, shining.
As do mine to the sheer fabric
that rides over your toes, ankles, up calves
over knees, and thighs….ah to perhaps stop there
if we dare…
Yet some go further still,
Over buttocks and hips
to complete the curved picture all nicely framed.
Seams sometimes ride along her back plane
perhaps Cuban, Havana, Point, or the Manhattan
to name a few.
Whatever the style, all lines travel to that
same heavenly place where man presumes
to travel to get a better view.
I am partial to black, stopping just at mid-thigh
secured snugly with a nice laced garter.
But whether nude, or white, cream colored,
or villainous red.
A stocking, is a stocking, is a stocking my friend.
Try but once to not look upon the tower
as your eyes draw near.
Sooner cut out your eyes to cause the
brain to go against what nature intended.
Her form is a beacon to every breath that you breathe
Her form is a work of art artfully adorned.
Take a look, drink her in.
Smile inwardly, fall from her heights
and know with her and those
stockings you never stood a chance
of escape.

 

 

by Philip Wardlow 2015