Expectation's Fool

 

With a smile of innocence   a slow hand down my thigh  Held me with attentive cravings, which burns hot with expected desire.  Warm kisses down my neck sparks passion’s electric pulse  inside, releasing  a rush of honeyed streams which heeds to expectation’s true need. Undressing in quick increments in subtraction  fingers exploring, rich velvety core I'm feeling quixotic yearning. Expectance burning This hankering soul.  Tasting, soft wet creases Embryonic hope rises, soars In slow sculpturing of womanly curves   My imagined revealed?  Expectations' urging  thicken harden, steel  Granite moves within   banks of my river folds  bated breath, Yet, no tickle of orgasm evolving   Thunderous rain, cum No earth quaking? Just granite falling melting  Asleep, sated Awake, pissed Just what did I expect? “Blessed is he who expects nothing, for he shall never be disappointed.” ― Alexander Pope By Safire Copyright © 2013