By Harem
Date: 14 March 2001
HIS BED
His Bed
It's soft , it's warm, it reeks of him
Inviting me to lie down beneath the velvet covers.
Many layers of downy softness.
The top dark blue velvet with satin trim.
Feeling like talcum powder against the skin
Spacious sinful layers of fluffy clouds
Floating in his bed one needs only a harp
To know the joy of angels in heaven
Dreamily drifting between his sheets
So carefully placed in neat array
As I slide into his bed
With visions of slumber in my head
That will come before the dawn
But first, the passion, sweet release of him
Beneath the petal soft sheets so neat
Tossing the pillows to the floor
Tearing the covers off, pushing them with our feet
Ripping the sheets away from our sweating torsos.
Throwing blanket and quilt away.
Raping the well made bed with our lust.
Lying in the aftermath
We look at the stained naked bed in dismay
Shaking with chills and skin bumps
Laughing at what we have done
Entwined in each others heat trying in vain to keep warm.
Jumping down, he grabs the velvet covers
Throwing them over me.
Making the bed again with the lump of me in the center.
A waste of time at best, for shortly again.
He knows...... I am a pillow thrower.
.........................................................
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