Summer Switch

No showtime,
oh, Mistress o’mine?

no latex that gleams?
No leather that cracks?
NO bracelets that clash?
bare of second skin

the first with drops so wet
not me who made you sweat

no fingers that scratch
no hands that latch
no arms that swing
no whips, no crops, no canes that sing

the air outside forever still
relief won’t come from the windowsill

Exhausted from nothing
we lay on the sheets
absorbed by the morning
submission to heat

your fingers’ touch
almost too much

a lazy breath
to send ‘em off
a tiny death
your sigh a cough

such a reward for a single blow?
one more to see your arousal grow

my mind excited
by your desire
your skin ignited
from lung-born fire

I bring you gusts, winds and storms
for bedtime games we set new norms

Your voice a mumble
I beg your pardon
blowing more, you tumble
as rosy buds harden

shiny layer before long gone
excitement too, a sudden yawn

replacing with spit, I’m no puritan
hydrating your dried salty secretion
isotonic memory of life’s origin
until your body grants me repletion

dispersing breath as any lung can
a welcome relief when finding a fan

only the best, my slave
this satisfying tool
made of lace, not of wool
my right hand starts to wave

much too soon saliva’s source depleted
prospecting a substitute repeated

hand starts to spread
keen rivulets
glands’ wet outlets
from toes to head

your streams rising, our fluids blending
another heat release is pending

lust ensemble
cheeks redden
hips tremble
thighs madden

now, spread ‘em some more
and open that double door

a river starts flowing
as drafts waft through your gorge
weary wrist starts slowing
you writhe, you beg, you scorch

quoting Quen-tino media
“Torture you? That’s a good idea.”

know my fickle minion
it may die, it may live
tornado I can give
or lull of dead pinion

I hear, called forth by tiny breeze
you’ve never used before, this “Please”

your plea my spur
the fan a blur

storm tide raking
self-forsaking

oh, Master o’mine,
shower time!