My Tutor

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksiesilk Classic Group

What happens when first love turns to obsession.

My skin aches for your touch

reducing me to a wanton beggar,

desiring any cheap erotic morsel you perchance should cast my way.

Alone in my room, my hands greedily explore warm, bare flesh

in the dark, beneath cool, satin sheets.

Shallow breaths escape past moist lips

as I retrace the narrow line of my hips where

your fingers once lazily played, loving yet demanding,

down my belly into the depths of my welcoming core.

The cool night breeze rushes over me,

seduced into recalling once again

the firm press of your muscular frame against my slender body,

an impassioned moan escapes past my sobering memories

of what once was.

I can still recall the outline of your ruggedly handsome face and the taste

of your warm tongue as it masterfully explored uncharted territory,

while your growls of pleasure mingled with my own increasing desire.

I, virginally, yet whorish, starving for what you were spoon-feeding me,

yearning for the seductive weight of your glistening flesh as it

melded with my own.

Consequences be damned!

It didn't matter who you were; or who's you were.

I only wanted what only you could give me.

I had come across as a spoiled child; uncultured and unschooled,

yet you readily took me under your wing.

You were my tutor, and I, your eager pupil.

And oh, wasn't I a quick learner, learning the ways of a woman,

and how to pleasure a man beyond his wildest expectations?

You bedecked me in finery, and showed me off to your friends like

some prized possession; and they were rotting with envy, wishing

to possess what you did.

But too soon you grew weary of me, and cast me aside

like some used up play-thing.

Now I cannot erase your touch from my memory.

My flesh cries out for your advanced tutelage.

No other can ever take your place, could ever stir up

these wicked desires the way you had.

And I've tried drowing in a sea of forgetfulness

in the wake of too many unfamiliar men who left me unsatiated.

I desire nothing more than to be your sole possession, whatever the cost,

even at the price of my own soul, just to be wrapped once more

in your protective arms and be pressed beneath you.

I remember the fevered rythmn of your thrusting deep within me,

legs splayed for your utter enjoyment as you stretched me to the point

of a lascivious mixture of pain and pleasure.

You are mine.

My love.

My life.

My tutor.


Submitted: December 13, 2014

© Copyright 2023 Faith Christenson. All rights reserved.

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