Memories

Memories



By Ravenquill



It seems almost a fantasy,

A mist within my mind,

Of one so near in private thought

Yet far away in time.



Of skin so soft and tender

That tightened at a kiss

To softly rippled wonders

With dark and turgid tips.



Of roundness, ripe and fertile

So smooth and yet so tight.

Of secret silky tresses

That hid her cleft from sight



Her private lips were moist with dew,

Their fragrance musky-tart.

My fingertips stroked satin skin.

I felt them slowly part.



My manhood straining up in need,

Of woman’s primal gift,

Yet waiting for the sounds and feel

The sigh, the lifting of her hips.



My entry, slow and gentle

‘Til cradled ‘tween her thighs,

The world became just her and I

Locked in that ancient tie.



Her hands caressed my body,

Her panting breath, my face.

Her lips mouthed quiet murmurs.

Her thighs embraced my waist.



First slow, then fast, then faster still

As flickers turned to flames,

Then blazed to the inferno

That cannot have a name.



Her kisses took away my breath

Then filled me with her own.

Her body writhed beneath me.

She arched her back and moaned.



In that exquisite union,

As old as time itself,

We climbed the heights of ecstasy

And teetered on the shelf.



My straining thrusts, returned in kind

That pushed me to her depths.

Her grasping sheath upon my staff

The heaving of our chests.



Her nails dug hard into my back,

Her hips began to twist,

Then shuddering together

We fell in the abyss.



Her cry was soft and pleading as

She told me of her need.

I pulled her body to me

And filled her with my seed.



We lay there in the quiet

Still locked in that embrace

Her hands stroked up and down my back.

Her lips caressed my face.



The memory still lingers there,

Floating through my mind.

That night when I was twenty-one,

And she was thirty-nine.