Mark Me in Red

            

tied spread-eagle to our bed
bound with silken scarves
made hard by anticipation
you pounce with feline grace

my naked flesh a fresh canvas
for your lipstick covered lips
crazy patterns spin us wildly
mark me as yours forevermore

rings of red run up and down
each inch another encircles me
marking each gasp and moan
coaxed out by her hungry mouth

till no space is left bare or dry
my love will rock her head and sigh
upon that pillar raised so high
to make me spill my seed for her 

W. I. Boucher November 12, 2002