Please note that this content is sexually explicit. We recommend that you should not read this content if you are offended by sexually explicit material.
The Honey Pot Waltz
She was intoxicated by her beauty and her flirtatious style,
It literally made her wet as she watched her bite her bottom
lip while sporting a crooked smile.
Seductively winking at her from across the room as if it
were an invitation of sorts.
Oh yes, she thought to herself, I’m ready to partake in this
voyage and visit all of her ports.
Completely taken by surprise that it was a woman who
could make her think such thoughts…
Then realizing she had just been seduced by what they
affectionately call The Honey Pot Waltz.
His approach was almost loathsome,
the polar opposite of romantic.
Completely rough around the edges,
he was the furthest from sycophantic.
But this is what she craved,
something dark and unforgiving.
Someone to push her to her limits,
something to prove that she was living.
In The Dark
And there she stood completely silent in the middle of the
empty room wearing absolutely nothing but a blindfold…
Demanding she stay perfectly still, he strokes her breasts
with his moistened fingertips, then downward to delve
them inside her threshold.
His other hand wrapped around her pulsating throat
gently squeezing each time she squirms as he plunges
deeper and deeper, over and over.
Suddenly her body begins to tremble and her silence
disrupted by her insatiable moans, he has forced her to
lose every ounce of composure.
She kept her heart locked in a cage so she could
erase all the boundaries of her morality.
Absolutely nothing was off limits to her anymore
when it came to her deviant sexuality.
If it seemed exciting and dangerous it pulled her
in like a moth to a flame.
Refusing to let her conscience take control, she
treated her partners like conquests in a game.
And although it may seem as if she were broken,
and this some form of self affliction.
She had zero guilt about how she chose to share
herself with others to satisfy her own addiction.
Hands full of skin,
nails embedded in the flesh.
The biting of necks like
starving predatory beasts.
Bodies so tangled,
they’re seductively meshed.
Then sliding down ever so
slowly to devour the feast.
The sounds of gasps and moans
filling the sweltering air.
Suddenly the sound of a deep
gruff growl reminiscent of despair.
She could not sleep because her thoughts were consumed by him…
The taste of his lips, the sound of his voice, the smell of his skin.
She wondered if he laid in his bed like her craving as much…
Drifting into fantasies that seemed so real she could feel his touch.
Slight moans echoing through the dark room as she lay alone…
Then silence as she looks across the empty bed where her panties
had been strown.
Quickly closing her eyes in the hopes she could once again
see his face…
And feel the sensation that engulfs every inch of her
body with the warmest embrace.
She reminds herself, be patient, for someday all of this will be
worth the while…
Then serenely drifts off into her slumber wearing an almost
Poetry © Julie Casey 2016
Julie Casey is an American writer, hailing from the midwestern city of Bloomington, Illinois. Born June 12, 1968, she is the youngest of eight children. Julie is a devoted mother and grandmother, and has been writing poetry for nearly four decades. Recently, she decided to delve into the erotica genre of her creative outlet, and has found an immense degree of satisfaction transitioning into the more deviant aspects of her art. With the support of fellow writers, in addition to family and friends, she has finally made the courageous leap to share her poetry with the rest of the world.