Okay, I'll go ahead and post the poem here. Looking at the user interface I don't see any way to "Tag". I've never used whatever interface this is to post messages.
The early morning sun wakes me and, as I've done
almost every day since you've been here, I turn
to look at you, still asleep beside me. The light
embraces your long blond hair as it fans out on the
pillow, framing your face in a glowing halo of gold.
I can't resist and I lightly brush my fingertips
across your cheek, feeling your breath warm and
moist against my palm. I marvel as always at
your innocent expression, wondering where you are
in your dreams. You stir lazily, yawning, and now
the cherub is gone. It's its place is a horny angel,
clear blue eyes matching the lust in my own.
I feel your arms come up around my neck and pull
me down on top, not waiting to see if my body
is responding, you know that I'm always ready.
You take hold of me and, opening your legs, fold
yourself up to guide me in, starting the long slow
dance of love. The sensations are overwhelming,
surrounded by your near 100 degree heat on the
inside and a far hotter feeling of passion outside.
Your legs wrap tightly around me, drawing me in
deeper, not wanting me to pull out, even for
a second. But retreat is the last thing on my
mind. I want to feel you totally surrender your body
and soul to me, as I have long since done to you.
"Faster" I hear you moan, working up to your own
orgasmic peak. Your muscles grip me like a second
mouth, daring me to hold anything back, demanding
that I do it to you harder and I comply, the bed
creaking beneath us as movements become a blur.
Your motions become even more frenzied and I see
your mouth open in a silent scream. I can feel the
warm sticky wetness between us and this finally
sends me over the edge as I fill you up, covering
your mouth roughly with mine to steal your breath away.
Finally my motions slow, coherent thought returns and
I can feel you relax. Slowly you open those blue eyes,
look up at me and say "Do it again..and again..and again"
I'm not really a poet, per se. I generally write stories, of the erotic and not erotic variety. It's just occasionally something comes in my head that doesn't seem to be a story, something that won't have the necessary length. Then it becomes the type of writing you see above. Once the places reopen in my area I'm pretty certain I'll take it to open mic and read it to the crowd, they have separate gay nights once a month. I'll drag the boyfriend with me so I can embarrass him by obviously reading it directly to him.