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White Wine And Feather Boa Dreams
I wrap myself
in feather-boa-fantasies of his dreams
sinuous pinot-grigio-me;
X-rated and never sated
dancing to rock ‘n roll— 80’s dated
...my floorshow our foreplay
welcome to the conjugal jungle
of not-so-rusted lust
sixty-something-shapely...
25th anniversary groom croons naughty thoughts;
“you could make a young stud sizzle
if you cougar-purred and preened..
half-your-age ‘prey’ would pray for a pounce!”— ooh!
naughty indeed!
ah, husband’s a spiced silver-tongued fox alright!
but I know..
on this night in the right light
white wine flying my loosed inhibitions
like a cloud-kissing kite
that he’s right
feline hips feral and bosomed rib cage immoral
swing slink and tassel-turn
his head spins and swims in circles within circles
his eyes aswirl in party-trick-pastie-twirls
— imagination game—
his hypnosis a sexy prognosis
metal music rides the track
—fast—
an insane train
suede stiletto booties
bring the heat
as my naked heart beats
—fast—
a cyclone metronome
beneath man-handfuls
of jelly-jiggle
lingerie cupped and pushed up
confection affection
his sugar-craving
r a v i n g
as I gyrate scantily
me —a flirty empty-nester
a w-i-l-d flower of natural nectar
our home once again a “teacup-for-two”
a juicy seduce-y l-o-v-e nest
my body rocks and talks dirty to him—
skin-tight rhymes in negligee undulations
snaky-hips hype shimmy-shiver-vibrations
abracadabra of torso twizzle excitations
flaxen-magic of blonde-tousled-mane-tossing persuasions
he swoons his libido balloons he's a full moon rising
Ooo—sensuous you!
sixty-something-shapely
you ain’t no side-saddle gal—noooo…
long panther-sleek gloves hug porcelain skin
the t a n t a l i z e in his eyes my prize
as I peel satin fabric off slowly—
turning my gloves
and his desire inside out…
I bump and grind
his mind into overdrive
and collect his caught breaths
like paper presidents
in the stripper strings of my ‘Saturday night persona’
—my persona;
only thing I still wear
(by my last glass of wine)
..that.. and black booties
my stiletto-stealth— killer calves curvy
beneath a biker-chick leather garter;
silver-trinket-links draping my thigh
celebrate their oneness with my movements
with ‘glass-clink’ chinks
and champagne-bubble-glints
s-p-a-r-k-s—e-l-e-c-t-r-i-c
my angelic sinful wink
flashes neath lush lashes in candlelight
I leave the dining-room-dance-floor
leading him by the white-hot boa
to the mango-French-kiss of my pink bed
Copyright ©
Susan Ashley
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