This is my first stab at erotica. Please, be kind.

under a rough
and tattered
patchwork quilt
you waited

the smell of
cinnamon
exhaust
and pure
fallen
woman
hits my nose
like a two ton
heavy thing

in the dimness
you lay
in that sweet and
hazy state
between dreams
and weary wakefullness

exhaust smell fading
and your scent rising
like gabriel's finger
through egypt
and there is no blood
on your doorway

it draws me near
and you smile
in knowing
dreaminess
and i see
that one game had
finished
and another
begins

the slickness
on your tools
leave a trail
for me to follow
and i smile
for your
preparations

i small wince
of envy
touches my cheek
and i wish
my own drive
was battery
operated
but it passes
as i know
this will only
quicken our pace

under the blanket
your shape suggests
gentle waves
but promises
thunder

drawing back
your veil
your dreaminess
becomes wicked
anticipation
and your divine
stink
invades my pores
like a serpent
in the garden

without words
you rise
hand still perched
where my eyes
can't follow
and below you
a shadow
of moisture
spreading
making the spot
where we will make
an altar
of sin

with delicate
brutality
your ballet hands
tear cloth from
my flesh
and leaves me
chilled
with heat
then turning
with a murderer's smile
those hands
hold the headboard
like claws

and peering
over
your shoulder
you
invite
me
in...