It’s here—the final day of my 7-Day Poem Challenge. This time, I went big. Today’s piece is a narrative poem called “The Match,” and since it’s on the long side, I’ll get right to it.
I hope you enjoy…
Jade A. Waters
“There’s something about the sweat of a woman,” he says.
I’m not sure what to think.
I mean, I’m standing here
The steam so suffocating I’m remembering
How hard it can be to breathe through my once-broken nose.
Beads of sweat—
Rivulets of sweat
Curl down my sides,
Curving under my breasts
Racing down the hard lines of my abs
Slowing when they hit the subtle rise of trimmed curls
When he yanked my boy shorts down to my ankles just a minute ago.
“You think I’m kidding?”
I bite my lip.
That’s just it.
Then again, it’s hard to think with him breathing in my ear
His exhalations are still a little wild from
Our match not ten minutes before,
And when he licks the smooth line of my neck
I arch back in protest.
I always fight—
But just a little.
Danny grabs onto my hips.
The move is so sudden I jerk,
My breasts smashing against the punching bag.
(See, he didn’t leave me much leeway when he cuffed me
To the chains that hold this thing in place—
And I’d tell you I mind,
But I don’t.)
He digs his fingers into jutting bones,
Rubs his cock against my firm ass
Catches the lobe of my ear between his teeth
And groans when I squirm
Like I wanna fight.
Danny responds by slipping his fingers down,
Pinching my clit,
Sliding that cock right where he needs to be—
Where I need him to be—
And then he gasps again,
As if he’s surprised to find me so wet.
Every time we spar
I get like this.
I’ve been training far longer than him
So he doesn’t mind me pinning him on the mat
Straddling him with my aching thighs
Grinding my pussy against him
And shoving my elbow into his chest
When I whisper,
“I win. Again.”
He leisurely smiles.
I think that’s because the moment it’s over—
My victory, done—
I’ll let Danny take my wrists
Tie them somewhere
Like now, cuffed up to this heavy bag
That smells like my sweat and plastic.
“Well?” he asks.
The head of his cock is just inside the rim of my cunt
And he’s teasing me
Spurring me on even more
Than the fans chanting outside the ring during my matches.
Danny knows how much this gets me
So he thrusts slowly
Making me moan.
He feels so good
That when he sinks deeper
I don’t even care that my mouth
Is on the bag
That my cries
Are falling from my lips louder than the bell
That signals my wins.
“Like that?” he says.
That is all guttural moan and a puff of air,
And to remind me how much I want it
He pumps again. Then once more.
“Fuck, yes, Danny.”
“Yeah? You surrender?”
He drives in so deep
All I can think
Is that I’m sweaty
That he’s sweaty
That holy fuck
He feels so good.
He wraps his arms around the bag and me both
Closing me between two things I love
Biting at the side of my chin
As he fucks me
And sweaty like we like it.
It doesn’t take long
Me cuffed up to that bag
Danny all the way inside me
The smell of sweat and lust
And so many fights
On the training mat
Surrounding us as we go
For this one more match
Before our shower.
But this time
We both win.
And there you have it! Seven straight days of poetry. To be honest, I had a ton of fun. I hope you did, too!
To celebrate this week of poetry, I’m launching a brand new page on my site! Please check it out right here—you’ll find all the poems I’ve written so far, completely free and in one place. I plan to add to it as I write more poems in time. 🙂
As for now…thank you so much for joining me on this erotic poetry adventure!