Sexy Poems | Examples of Sexy Poetry

A soft caress within the night awakens my burning need for bliss. Entangled with your warm delight, seduction starts amidst this kiss. Your lips, alluring and divine, engulf me in desire's retreat. Enamored by our sweet design we draft a gage for love's elite. Upon a canvas of romance your beauty draws my sex appeal....

Continue reading...

Her craft had a sizzle and spark, Lighting up to cook after dark. So his brainpan swam, “That’s one succulent clam!” A morsel, just right for the shark....

Continue reading...

And then- "I looked at something so unbelievably beautiful, so very attractive in every possible way that I just completely fell into or under some kind of freakish and magical wonderful spell. I was over-taken by her classy style, her sassy sass, and her gorgeous, and her perfectly shaped, fit to a T... Red hot...

Continue reading...

I do this phase for the physical pleasure I deserve. Even if it is purely just torture, I will curb every curve. I shall also embrace every encounter as a way to serve....

Continue reading...

I lay on pillow throne of lies. Tolerated all the flings and flies....

Continue reading...

I knew after the longest moment we made love, That you could be better than someone sent from above, But soon enough you told me we weren't meant to be, I know you had only meant to see me free: But I sadly and sentimentally told you, I would always love you no matter what you'll do. I descended into a...

Continue reading...

My little sister loved to fraternize So her newfound curves she just had to hide Sis wore frumpy clothes Nothing was exposed Now, why were those...

Continue reading...

They called it short gratification— but I lost my soul in the trade. A moment’s pleasure, for a lifetime of emptiness, a spark that consumed the temple I once was. O Woman, your body is not desire’s playground— it is the chalice of divinity. If you fail to respect your sacred form, no man ever will. Each man you lie with, leaves an imprint upon your soul. And...

Continue reading...

In the stillness of a soft-lit room, where whispers dance like fireflies, our breaths entwine, the air thick with unspoken thrill, a tender hesitation lingers before skin meets skin, warmth igniting in quiet anticipation. Fingers, fumbling yet eager, trace the curves of new terrain, a map yet to...

Continue reading...

Your words feel like a hand between my legs making me ache making me crave making me need turning my thoughts to pinned wrists your hand around my throat my legs around your waist holding you deep drowning in your eyes moaning "deeper" Words that take me to the edge and over Words that set me...

Continue reading...

Your back, a velvet crescent, draws my chest like gravity. I map the slope of you slowly, each breath a question my hands almost ask. Flesh hums between folds of cotton, heat slipping into heat — a kind of friction language forgets, where fingertips write what mouths resist. You arch, slightly — a sigh or a signal, and my pulse answers before I do. This hush...

Continue reading...

"The Invitation" I saw you — like lightning notices the earth before it strikes. My breath forgot its rhythm, my eyes rehearsed what touch might feel like if permission ever passed between us. I want you — not just the body wrapped in moonlight, but the pulse beneath it, the places you’ve never let language reach. The ache you hide in your slowest smile. Can I take you to my love...

Continue reading...

Your back, a shoreline my breath returns to, warm as tidewater held past midnight. I trace the hush between your shoulder blades — a silence taught to speak in skin. The room forgets its corners. Only the curve of us remains: two commas curling into a sentence neither of us dares to end. My knee behind yours, a lock finding its key. Even the sheets...

Continue reading...

A gem there is, that’s nestling inside me (my husband claims I’m talking utter rot): I tell him that I’m certain that I’ve got homunculi who really want to ride me. He knows the satisfaction he’s denied me: (since nineteen ninety-four, delivered squat). But men have egos, have to show as ‘hot’, and I’ve allowed this utter fraud to guide me. “De minimis,”...

Continue reading...

. that gap fissure identity twixt yourn lip's ...

Continue reading...