'My Juliet' - Part 3 Outline (Revised)

3 : 5

From bed, he watches Juliet fold the note,

Holding it so fondly to her chest,

Watching her breathe in the words he wrote;

And rolls his eyes (girl crushing at its best).

Her finger draws a heart in mirror's steam,

Wet hair drips hot water on the tile,

She meets his gaze and grins, her eyes a-scheme,

Determined to make Poet's stare worthwhile.

Reminiscing last night's revelry,

How wonderful -- her every pleasure claimed!

Driven o'er and o'er to ecstasy,

Her every bliss so fervently exclaimed.

A quiet breath, her lip seized in her teeth,

Her slender, eager fingers probbe beneath.

----

3 : 6

The memory: bathed in sunset's hue,

Poet casually lies on the duvet,

Grinning slightly, taking in the view

Above him: goddess in green negligée.

She starts with simple kiss on bottom lip,

Tastes her way down, over chin and throat,

Moans as gentle hand squeezes her hip,

Shuddering at that one exquisite note.

(He marvels at her little private show,

Allowing her to tease him, just enough;

While knowing just how far he'll let her go,

To escalate the scene to hard and rough.)

Incendiary, all these pleasures felt;

As both of them ascend, and bodies melt.

----

3:7

Knelt on him, unbuttoning his shirt,

His gentle fingers dancing 'cross her waist

She does her best to give him his dessert:

She feels him under there, and wants a taste.

O'er his abs and to the space below;

She feels his pleasure stiffen 'neath her chin,

(Her forehead damp with sweat, her cheeks aglow,

Fingers busy, stoking fire within...)

At last, her Poet's fullness takes the stage,

Patiently, she gives her full regard,

(Her heat a furnace, too intense to gauge,

She grips the bathroom counter, breathing hard...)

Soft, she greets his stiffness with a kiss,

(Welcoming the coming wave of bliss.)

----

3:8

At her touch it throbs, his breath a shake,

Fist tightens in her hair -- she gives a cry,

(While Poet, every nerve alive, awake,

Feels that pulse -- the one he can't deny.)

One slow lick, from base to glistening tip,

Till finally, her eager lips descend,

(Stifling bliss, she bites down on her lip  --

Thighs tremble as her knees begin to bend...)

Eagerly and hungrily, her mouth

Devours every inch of Poet's lust,

(Her explosion looming farther south,

As Poet watches fingers probe and thrust...)

And just as both orgasms come to blow,

Both Poets (past and present) utter, "No."

----

3:9

She stops, wincing as the pleasure stalls,

Closes both her eyes and whispers, "Please..."

(As in the memory, Poet gently calls,

"No, darling.... it's my turn now to tease.")

He bids her come to join him on the bed,

His fingers now well-practiced at this game,

And memory and reality in her head

Merge, as dreamily, she sighs his name.

He knows just how to touch and where to linger,

To show her just how pleasure ought to feel;

So talented with every patient finger,

His expertise her true Achilles' heel...

Until, pushed further than ever before,

He lifts her onto him, and gives her more.

----

© Jackson Cambridge, 2016.