Pleasure Hours

Time goes against love.
A word we swore to erase
never to be used again.
Just as the hours counted down
we were impossibly drawn
almost forced to use
that dreaded word again.
From behind our closed door
it took only minutes
to strip her completely free.
She loves just standing there
showing exactly where
my hungry mouth
was starving to feed.
I love leaving permanent marks.
Permanent or otherwise,
it’s easy to understand why
she asks for more of this time.
Properly hooked in her corset
pulling the laces so very tight
important the garment fit perfect.
Each of these sharp little tugs
meant her breathing was guarded.
These are the hours she adores
the ones of devoted attention.
She pulls at the the cord
stretched directly over head
lengthening her curvy posture.
On tiptoes she’s perfect and balanced
careful of her manicured toes
she turns using her favorite words.
This is the first of many hours
the girl begs for more time,
inched up against love
she swears come tomorrow
we’ll rewind and
start time over again.

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