Tag Archives: sexy

Mischievous Summer


“Pull, pull, pull the strings of my heart,” she said, “just you pull off these clothes that seem to be in the way between you and me, and I will gladly give you what you pretend to see.”

In your ear, I shall whisper, “Dear, dear, dear , my love knows no bounds, for a dalliance with you is truly profound, well except until the morn. Then it’s on to that cute blonde. You know the one you yourself were with just last week down the street.”

Ah summer,
A fickle thing, a merry thing, a melancholy sad thing
tis almost like that hot beach breeze that whipped on
by as I licked vanilla ice cream off your thighs
It all mingling in my mouth as a gritty sweetness.

You laughed then, telling me that was a ticklish spot
I have since learned of more places upon your
skin where my tongue likes to wander about
and cause you to laugh along with other
sounds…

My grin always matched your grin
as the twinkle in my eyes mirrored yours
in return.
Partners in the clandestine
hand in hand
with a twist of the knob
we entered
into that waiting bedroom
in sweet anticipation
always knowing in
our minds
our mischievous summer
soon would end.

by Philip Wardlow 2017

Phrases just for Her


You can only look at her and get tongue tied
as your mind
gets mangled
That girl over there in that short skirt
wearing those black
thigh highs and garters, along
with sharp heels that could most definitely hurt.

Oh, and when she smiles,
simply sexadorable.
A storm walking, dream of a nightmare on the prowl.
The sensuosity
she exudes, the magicalicious
way she crosses the room.

It’s not fair I tell you.
No simple mortal stands a chance.
For they are all in thrall.
Pupils dilated to drink her in.
Lips wetted just in case of a kiss

Let’s not forget,
her charmtrap of a stare,
dark eyes that scream you fucking
better be aware
Because I’m here,
“I’m always on when I’m out, and you
look pretty cute,”
she almost seems to whisper
just to you.
Even though you are nowhere near her in
the room.

She’s got a confoundous amount of play
in what that grin directed
might say,
“Hey, I spy with my little eye,
a guy I might let take me for a little drive tonight.
but oh,
does he even have the key, let alone the gas
to get me there where I need to be?”

I jingle my keys as the
bojangle in me wants to bodangle
with you in so many delicious
ways

I take your hand and lead you
home, climb the stairs,
and close the door.
The stars are forgotten
as the man in the moon seeks
to peek in my room to learn a
thing or two of what
I am about to do to you and
for you.

by Philip Wardlow 2017

Landscapes of You


 

 

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 pinks and reds that I bring out in your cheeks and lips

as you gyrate those hips below

stir 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

Kissing you Violently


Kiss
Kissing you Violently ~
This land is vast,
a kingdom of twists
and false turns,
full of dragons, goblins, trolls,
and all kinds of viciousness.

You are lost in it,
meandering to and fro.

Bogs, quicksand, dark woods
and sweeping storms rage
as you huddle in a hole
in a hollowed out stone hill.

Yet you travel on, for the storms
always settle for just a slice of time,
just a slice,
same as the monsters which stop in their
roaming, if only a bit.

Enchantments abound,
seemingly fair of nature,
always to turn to a curse
soon revealed,
as the invisible ropes
binding you deep on a pedestal
force a lucid sleep,
of nightmares you cannot place.

Knuckles bloodied
against a stone wall which
will never fall.

I punch.

See? Nary a chip.

So I climb…

Breath spent in exhaling
as lungs heave
with exertion
at muscles spent,
screaming with fatigue.

I find you sleeping.
Fitfully.

A beautiful wretch of a woman
The only kind I would
ever seek.

A Prince of Fools I may be
perhaps, but still a
knowing knight am I in the end,
for only a violent kiss
will bring you back to
life.

Not one of wishes
and hopes and dreams
or even love,
but one of a passion
to rival a thousand
wants and deeds.

And as I look to you
I am full of
violence
this day.

As I bend down
and kiss you violently
by Philip Wardlow 2015

Her Body –


reading

Her Body

I noticed her body after her beguiling faced walked in.

It spoke and sang to me with a swaying of heavy hip action.

If only I could dial back my desire then the stars would align,

but the god given geometry wrapping around that frame

would make a chaste man wonder why he went insane

as he saw curves creating arcs upon arcs

intertwining to manifest into shapes

only nature could conceive.

In the lovely female form

there’s a weakness

in me because as she

walks across the room

I continue to gaze while my

rapture increases knowing her body is

hidden beneath thin layers that only deepen

the mystery of a softness that is surely there.

What if I were to simply let my hands wonder

where they wish to go, to peek lightly with

fingertips in a caress down her naked back

with all intent to travel on if my bold

desires permitted such an act.

I know my place, but she

will learn my charms,

she will see my face,

and look deep into

my eyes and

wonder if

tonight I

am her

fate.

By Philip Wardlow

 

 

Sexing you up on Friday the 13th – A poem


 

blackcat

Sexing you up on Friday the 13th~

 

 

Hey you,

in those vicious black heels,

What kind of luck do I need to get them

off you, or pressed into me?

I see you in the broken mirror

bent over with all your

loveliness revealed.

What mojo are you channeling today?

What’s in that juju bag you  are rattling

my way?

Black things, hidden things, shadowed

intentions of import,

all centered on the

sex enshrouded you.

It calls like a black cat down

the alley of discontent.

How lucky do I have to be?

Or unlucky, depending

on what lurks behind

those eyes.

I’m stepping on cracks, &  going under

ladders trying to get you

in bed.

I’m daring like that,

besides you have to believe

in all that mumbo jumbo

for it to have power

over you,

and I’ve never been one

to think a simple number

ever held sway over me

regarding you.

Superstitious or not.

 

 

by Philip Wardlow 2015

Stockings – Erotic Poem


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

Cute as a Button –


Cute as a Button ~

 

She is cute as a button but that button is sewed onto the dark lapels of the devil

She’s a handful, a handful of hurt with a side of outrageousness

spilling over onto the floor and making a hell of a mess

for me to clean up.

Cheeky smiling girl,

Oh, what a monkey you are…

Come down from that fucking tree, you are much

too high and the wind is howling

and the bough is ready to break.

Miss dangerous. A big red light blinking.

But would I take her any other way?

That corner, that question mark, that hill

I want to turn it each time, see the  answer revealed

and the top to be reached.

She’s cute as a wicked  little buttondevil button

could ever be.

 

by Philip Wardlow

 

Nothing Spectacular – A poem


 

 

Nothing Spectacular~spectacular

 

She told me she was nothing spectacular
Not special
Hmm..
How could that be.
How Indeed.
For I see nothing but a little beautiful light
Shining
Soooooooooooo brightly
Yet, she takes her little hand
and dims down
down
down
down
Click…til its off.
I don’t mind clicking it back on.
CLICK
but it gets rather tiresome
I fucking need to steal that knob after
I have turned it back on
For she captivates
and draws everyone like a moth
to that little blue electric light
Bzz
Bzz
Ah you killed another one.
but they couldn’t handle your heat
SO
Move on…:)

 

 

by Philip Wardlow 2015

She is ~ An Erotic Poem


She is ~

by JessiBeans on DeviantArt
by JessiBeans on DeviantArt

She is dangerous as a newly

sharpened knife
and delicate as a dying
flower.
I can’t read her mind
but I know her intention
is to please
while secretly demanding to be pleased.
Her sweetness is bottled up
in a jar labeled as poison
Drinking her down
would be problematic if
the antidote was not close at
hand.
Taming her
Cajoling her
Corraling her
You can try,
but you might die just a little inside
if you failed in your quest.
She doesn’t want a pussy,
she already has one of those
so strap on that dick
and pump up your
testosterone,
give her a gentle kiss
but no slack or quarter in bed
She wants you sir.
Deep deep inside
her deviate little head.

by Philip Wardlow