Through the Keyhole

Welcome to my online Blog where you’ll find all things sexy and tantalizing. I LOVE to write naughty stories, poems, thoughts, etc. Take a moment to peruse the darkest corner of my fantasies, experiences, and adventures. Crouch low and peep into the taboo world that lies “Through The Keyhole”….

Here’s a poem to start it off: I wrote this about a trumpet player I dated for awhile. Gotta love a talented musician!

The Musician

He whispered, “You’re an instrument, meant to be mastered and adored

Well maintained and well tuned in every phrase and every chord

I want to control your pleasure, inspire music in every kiss

I want the rhythm of your rapture to vibrate my fingertips

I want to know your body, the sound of every string

The melody of your pleasure, I want to learn to make you sing

Let me explore every inch, every mile I can compose

A symphony of sighs, in the discovery of each note

He composed that symphony on my skin as his fingers traced my curves

Each touch sending tremors through my orchestral nerves

He twisted on my nipples like he was tuning a guitar

Drawing notes up through my skin in his lustful repertoire

I exhaled a moan like a baritone as his fingers grazed my thighs

A contralto, then alto, masterfully coaxing me to tenor sighs

He plucked at my strings, as the tune escaped my lips

Every staccato beat a yearning for a fermata from my hips

He made me sing a song of seduction, tumbling through the air

To a glass-shattering climax of exhaustion and fanfare

I neared a crescendo into ecstasy, but he ceased the assault he had beset

He was playing me by ear and he wasn’t finished with me yet

He held me close like a violin as he plunged his bow into my sex

He applied some resin roughly to enhance the grip effect He drew out the pleasure like a long bow on a bass string flowing

Oh never let this bass note die, never cease the bowing

He artfully flourished with improvisational measure

He was an instrumental virtuoso of polyphonic pleasure

My body quivered and hummed to the beat of his pounding bass

A thundering of drums for each kiss upon my face

The denouement was Nye; anticipation began to mound

Symbols crashed, trumpets sounded, a cacophony of discordant sound

Staccato breath slowed to a legato caress

A Musical death gives way to hearts undressed

He played me like an instrument, mastered and adored

Well maintained and well tuned in every note and every chord

He explored every inch, every mile he could compose

A symphony of sighs, in his discovery of each note

A syncopation of our hearts in Rhythm and in rhyme

The music of his soul, harmonized with mine

He mapped out each phrase, resolved and dissonant

He the master musician, and I his instrument

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