By Beth Cortez-Neavel

and I could not sleep

all I could think about

was how you told me you

wanted me to spread them

and how you liked that I got so juicy.

and I opened the window

letting the cool October air

whisper over me

my nipples grew hard

my hands forgot themselves

and I began to wander

and the sirens

that wail in the middle of the night

did not bother me

and the light from the alley

falling into my window

could not reach me

and my smooth thighs


thinking of you

thinking of me

and it was slippery

and I was warm

my face was flushed

my forehead sweaty

my pupils dilated

and my hands were in

and out

and around

and became their own rhythm.

and my toes curled.

and my breathe came

hard like I did.


and I could not sleep because

all I could think about was how much I love you

how much I needed


to touch me.


0 thoughts on “Slippery

  1. Wow, i felt this one…and i’m not even a woman…in a former life i was. Erotic poetry is written a lot better by women i think. I’ll put an erotic image in a line or two in my own poems…like making love in the ballpit at McDonalds but that’s not as romantic and is mixed with humor. Poet Sharon Old’s uses erotica very aptly and seriously, however…i might recommend ‘Satan Says’ book or look up ‘Sex Without Love’ poem. This poem is a good archetype being purely on the subject, though.
    I ran across a ‘Best Erotica Poems’ in the Poetry section at Barnes/Nobles the other day, i might have to check it out and pay more attention to this genre within. Thx Ms. Neavel. You’ve got balls to post this.

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