Evolution 6 & 7: Cowboy Carom and Rug Burn

Here are another two entries in my semi-autobiographical poem "Evolution by the Numbers".

VI.       Cowboy Carom

I saw you sitting

On a stool at the bar, naked
In your leather vest and chaps
Nursing your beer      
Studying me   
As I played the game.
Glancing at you          
Over my shoulder,     
Feeling the cue --       
Long, hard, smooth --
Preparing to shoot,     
I knew you were interested.
Finally, you came,
Challenging me.
The game was Cowboy --      
You shot first
Sinking the Five,
Caroming into the Three.
Scoring was fast --     
The crack of ball against ball,
Setting up straight shots,
Bank shots,
The cue lightly kissing another
Into the pocket
Blue chalk between our fingers.
Beating you by one,
I bought you a beer.
We talked and joked.
Finally, smiling,
We left for my apartment.

VII.     Rug Burn

Your callused hands massage my chest,

Your fingers squeeze and pinch my nipples to erectness
Making me rigid with desire.
Nuzzling, your beard scraps my shoulder.
Grasping you by the root of your being
I stroke your velvety firmness.
Mingling sweat and musk is heady incense.
Sweat-soaked chest slides against chest
As you glide down my body,
Chin-stubble abrasively tickling,
Fingers and tongue exploring
Each ridge and ripple of muscle,
Each strand of coarse down.
Eyeing my manhood,
Your fingers embrace my hardness,
Fondle my softness.
You bury your nostrils deep in my groin,
As tongue replaces fingers.
Engulfed by your warm lips,
You work your way down me as you would a popsicle.
Eagerly, ardently, you take me.
Hungrily, you suck me dry
Until I am small with exhaustion.
Releasing me, you fold me,
Press against my forbidden boundary
And plunge into my deepest recesses.
Impaled, pooled in sweat,
I pull you in deeper until you erupt,
Filling me with magma warmth.
Unfolded, embraced, we laze, fingers caressing.
The impish gleam in your eyes reflect
The passion in my resurrection.