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A.H. Scott: Heel

Heel

Heel of my Christian Louboutin firmly pressed into your ball sack

I see in your eyes that euphoria of pressure, pleasure, and craved surprise

Heel

Auburn bush and mane of flame

Heel

Of course, you know my name

Samsara, like that mysterious essence

Banker, broker, varied victor of business

Pre-War apartment with ceilings so high

Heel

Only a man in true control can release the reins when he wants to

Heel

Purple leather corset and my Christians are the uniform of this mission

Heel

Stress of the day floats away with what you been wishin’

Heel

Dom you usually are, but you let this redhead play the top card

Sack’s gettin’ sore?

Yes, I know you want some more

Heel

Those hands of yours work up my calf to thigh

I ask you this, “Shall we go a little further with this raunchy ride?”

You reply, “Without hesitance”

Heel

I’ve got an added bonus behind my back

Studded collar of black with silver chain attached

You grin like a boy in his birthday

Heel

On his knees, big dog is that pliable puppy

High ceilings and ornate décor are a nice dichotomy for you to be walked

Heel

I sashay and lead the way, as you follow behind without a sound

Red hair of mine glides around my shoulders, as I look down at you

Heel

Your eyes affixed on my ass and my hips

My hand slowly grips the leash a bit closer

Heel

Into your bedroom, I sit on the bed

Seeing you on your knees always gets me wet

Heel

You stop at my feet and I twist the leash once more

Saying that word you taught me is the one which we both adore, “Ferse!”

Heel

I keep the shoes on, cuz’ I know that turns you on

You can’t wait to attack that door in the back

Heel

Flaming red sole underneath

Now, that’s the stealth seduction you seek

Heel

Soul to soul is ever so real

When you pull out all the stops, I can’t wait for you cork to pop

Heel

Tastin’ your champagne is all I wanna’ feel

Heel

With top as bottom & bottom as top

Enhanced appeal is the coupling that never will stop

HEEL….!!

About The Author: A.H. Scott is a poet based in New York City and frequent contributor to Tony Ward Studio. To read additional articles by Ms. Scott, go here: https://tonywardstudio.com/blog/lipstick_serenade/

A.H. Scott: Lipstick Serenade

red lipstick on an asian woman wearing a corset — Lipstick Serenade.Photo: Tony Ward, Copyright 2021

Lipstick Serenade

Red lipstick exudes the passion a woman has inside

Pressing that tube to her lips, she knows what reaction he’ll have

He sat in a chair across from her, as she winked at him

Ready for the night to begin, she closed the tube and stood up

In red bra, thong and garter, the stockings were grasped by her hand

Slowly she sat back down and began to give him a show

He felt an explosion beneath the denim he was wearing about to blow

Sliding stocking over right leg and then left, those ends of the garter were attached

Vision of loveliness in red stoked his lust

Lipstick started him off and seeing her in red was getting him off

But, she was only beginning the serenade of seduction

He walked over to her and stood directly at eye level

She wasn’t going to be doing anything to smudge that lipstick

A job of the hand would be his reward

Nothing more, nothing less

Wrist worked back and forth, as those red lips shimmered with a smile

He was grateful for small things she would do for him

Before they were heading out to dinner at a fancy restaurant, this was his treat

He’d been on the Olympic team as a sharpshooter

She knew he always was a man who enjoyed targets

Red lipstick was the circle

Her tongue was the flashpoint

He still had the magic of that sharpshooter of days gone by

Lipstick never was smudged, as her open mouth closed and swallowed

The lady in red and the man who smiled with pleasure continued with their evening

Neither spoke of her handy work or even his laser hitting its pinpoint

Yet, as they sat in the five star restaurant she placed a forkful of angel food in her mouth

He noticed a few crumbs upon those lips of red, “Why can’t I be that cake?”

She licked them off and said, “Because, you are no angel, my love”

Taking napkin to corners of her mouth wiping the crumbs off slowly

She stood and went to the powder room and freshened up

When they left the restaurant, she whispered, “I guess it’s time to smudge my lips”

Kissing him, their lipstick serenade would begin again when they returned home

And, when they did, her lips really got smudged…..

A.H. Scott: Limo

Limo

Dark windows shield the actions we hide within

As the driver opened the door to let me in

I winked at him as I entered the back seat of your ride

Long limousines have the privacy we both need

You, for who you are a public face in the media’s molten eye,

And, me who is seemingly somewhat polite and shy

Oh, who are we kidding?

We enjoy the danger

Possibility of those windows cracking turns us on

Down the avenue of wealth and comfort

You unzip my violet dress, to reveal my black bra, panties and garter

I push you away slightly and purr

As I touch myself for a short bit and am moist for sure

Soft breasts of milky white with nipples alive

Not to mention my thighs and lips quivering beneath black

You are a man of industry, who has a life in high society

Me, as the woman who works in the small art gallery

A nice ride with you is always a pleasant affair

You dive into my folds moist and pink

I sigh with ecstasy, as your laser is targeted on my point

Some bumps along the road, make our bodies bounce about

And, that’s when the real fun starts

Tailored gray suit made of finest fabric is worn by you

Was I going to be nude in that limo alone?

Oh, of course not

I held your head in place for a few more seconds

And, then it would be your time of reckoning

Pulling myself upwards, I push you onto the backseat

You chuckled and nod in approval

Getting you out of your jacket, shirt, and pants

I become a tigress and pull you by the tie

Whispering in your ear, “Let’s do it so hard, that we both cry”

Those words were all you needed and lust’s taming was not heeded

You left on that tie and had me work on your asset

Then, I bent over that backseat and you took my buns to task

A smack here and a slippery slot invaded by you

All as the limo continued down the avenue

You in your white briefs with flesh sliding in and out was divine

In the back of my mind, as we continued to grind

Was the fact that your driver knew the activities going on in the back seat

“I’m glad you pay him quite well, my seducer” ,I licked my lips as you banged me harder

You laughed and pushed further and further, “I know that treating staff well is just a price of privacy”

As the car drove through the city, I gazed out that back window with your meat inside me

When you finished doing your thing, I could hear the church bells of the Cathedral ring

Seven bells and desire was completed for both of us

I was breathless, as I laid my head on your bare chest

Hearing your heart beating so fast against my ear

I actually started to tear

You sighed and said, “So, now am I to cry, too?”

I rubbed the tear rolling down my cheek and said to you,

“Never shall I wish to weaken you, my man of mystery”

Limo rolled in front of a chosen location and we both were clothed again

As we kissed each other farewell for the night

The driver exited the car and walked to the passenger door

It was a ride I’ll never forget, just like the ones we’ve done before

Door opened and driver held my hand for departure

I craned my head downward and looked back at you

And, you gave me that wink of lust

Until we ride again………

A.H. Scott: What is it About A Man?

What is it About A Man?

What is it about a man?

Could it be his gaze?

Or, maybe the way he can put a woman in a delectable haze?

It could be the inebriation of folly

Yet, he envelopes you with sobriety

Maturity hasn’t lessened his playful air

A man’s profile is cut like a diamond so far from the rough

He’s a gem and he knows it

A lucky woman is joyful when he shows it

But, damn, you don’t want a young stud, cuz’ a man of many a season can make you howl

Young gun may think he’s got it like Flint

But, it is a man whose eye has got that certain glint

And, yes, a man can make you moan

It’s that pleasurable pop of excitement that peppers your soul

What is about a man?

He’s fun in the sun

He’s a swoon by the moon

He’s a wave hello

He’s a caress so mellow

He lets you know what he wants from a wink

A man of substance can put you on the brink

Brink of desire

Brink of hellfire

And, if a woman is wise she’ll appreciate all of it

He needn’t place a finger upon your skin to bring about aspects of sin

But, when his hands touch you, you go wild without haste

He can say something that knocks you off your feet

Even if you haven’t known him for long, he makes you feel complete

He holds your hand with pride as you walk down a street

You feel like you walk on a cloud, when a man smiles at you

He doesn’t need the big come-on to make his point

He uses the soft-sell to make you melt

Then again, it’s how a woman takes what he’s got to dish out

Now, that’s another thing she’s talking about

Bumpin’ n’ grindin’ can scratch her itch

But, damn, if she’s too forward with him, he’ll think she’s a bitch

Rounding second base can be a modest pace

Yet, could that keep a satisfied grin on his face?

Maybe yes, maybe no

But, in the end, only that man and woman would know

Soft or hard stroke is decided on what could bring forth that flow

Hellcat or kitten?

Which would make a man roar?

Depends on what sets the moment off

What is about a man?

In the end, the answer is simple

HE just is.

Milan Burnett: I Am That I Am

portrait of beautiful black model — Milan Burnett. Photo: Tony Ward. Copyright 2021

I Am That I Am

Looking back, outside of the mundane gossip and remedial conversation, there were two things that I hated to hear most while in school – “Milan, why are you so nice all the time?”, and the lackluster attempt of a so-called compliment, “You’re really pretty for a black girl!”. Being asked why am I so nice all the time always guaranteed for a quick, sarcastic remark such as, “So would you rather me be an asshole?!”. Simply because, well, who doesn’t like nice people? As for the latter, the best I could conjure up was an awkward, “Thanks, I guess?”. For any young girl growing into her teens, being called pretty by a cute boy in school was like an invisible badge of honor, one that could instantly put a pep in her step for the rest of the day. However, when being complimented gets limited to just “for a black girl”, unfortunately, that badge of honor does not wear the same.

I never labeled myself as the “pretty” or “popular” girl in school. I always wore glasses, and nothing special stood out about me. It wasn’t until I was in my late teens, early 20’s, that I realized the standard, regurgitated, concept of beauty, was just that – Standard. After tons of self reflection, and learning more about my indegineous background, I realized just how exclusive I truly was. Of course, eventually growing into my hips and womanly figure helped with that, as well. From the shape of my eyes, to the coils of my hair, to the complexion of my skin – I am exclusive – Regardless of who may feel otherwise.

Gaining knowledge of self has changed my thought process completely, making it easy for me to be comfortable in the skin I was blessed with. Once timid, shy and self conscious, I now wake up with an everlasting pep in my step, radiating an abundance of self-love and confidence. I am beautiful as I am. I am fierce. I am strong. I am a luminous etheric being, manifested in the physical form. I am Milan.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR : Milan is currently an administrative healthcare professional, originally from New York, now residing in Philadelphia. Aspiring model and real estate broker. Free thinker. Humanitarian by nature. Spiritual revolutionary in the making. This is Milan’s first contribution to Tony Ward Studio.