No matter how old you are, whether 16 or 60, there are times that sex can feel illicit, naughty and just a little bit exciting. This is a poem about those occasions.
There are times,
When sex between even a long-term couple feels illicit.
Like staying on a campsite in high season, surrounded by tents,
Where the nylon that protects you from the elements,
Doesn’t protect the privacy of your orgasm.
When staying at the parents’ house for the first time.
Where thin plaster walls and floorboards betray every movement.
Where passionate kissing becomes silent, sensual, longing.
Where rolling around on the bed becomes stillness,
Where we express our bodies with the controlled urgency of teenagers
Without the clumsiness of youth.
In knowing they are doing something wrong.
Where you whisper in my ear “I want this, but we must be quiet.”
Sex feels illicit in semi-nakedness,
Where in haste you pull your shirt up and your knickers down,
And I pull down my boxers,
But we don’t remove our clothes.
There’s something illicit when no sounds leaves your mouth,
And your eyes squeeze tight together,
As you feel me enter you.
It feels illicit when the usual vigorous thrusting of hips
Become slow, careful and controlled,
And the sounds of ecstasy are muted.
Gasps become heavy panting,
And groans are low and short.
There’s something erotic about your finger on my lips,
Hushing, willing me into silence,
As I feel my orgasm rise to meet yours.
There’s something illicit about two people in a bed designed for one,
One on top of the other,
And knowing that bed had never known lust before now.
When we’ve finished christening that bed in near silence,
There is something illicit about that panting,
As we crush or bodies together post-orgasm,
That final kiss goodnight as I slip out of your bed
and creep back to my room,
Closing your door in silence,
Seeing your prone semi naked form one last time until morning.
A mischievous smile on your lips as your wave me goodbye.
There’s something illicit about treading lightly,
Not wanting to disturb that loose floorboard,
As I slip into my own bed in another room,
With a smile on my face in knowing that nobody,
Nobody, knows what just passed between us.