INTRIGUE d’AMOUR

INTRIGUE d’AMOUR

He stealthily stepped in through the westside door
A mask distinctly of alabaster white pearl he wore
Emblazened upon his chest the symbol of the royal de’ fleur
With a haughty swagger, all did he ignore
Waving off those who would his company implore
From afar, the women did him adore
Their jaws a droppin’ to the floor
Turning around, seeking why there wast such fervor
I must know who he is one debutante swore
She smirked… look at the trifling cooing lil’ whores
Ready to peel off their underskirts as If to gain his favor
How the brazen hussies she did abhor

He stopped suddenly, deep black eyes upon her bosom he bore
He said not a word, his ungloved hand beckoning rapport
A vague sense of familiarity overcame her, like a mystical allure
The gentle touch uponst her cheek spoke of unrequited amour
Somewhere, somehow have their paths crossed before
His courtiers were heard to say ‘We must make haste your Honor.’
How wrong was she to think him an oafish boor
Her cheeks flushed crimson red, like a maiden so pure
Whilst walking off, he whispered later your services shall I procure

Disappeared with his royal entourage did he behind the green door
As the evening turned to night, the Lord called for his Lady du’jour
Protest as she might, she realized he wast exercising the ritual of carnal de’jure
Only recently had she learned of this ancient rite, as it wast so obscure
Trembling, she feigned defiance… determined to show him she be no whore
Nodding to Horatio, ‘Leave us be, and the palace grounds please secure.’

She sensed a most unusual night wast she about to endure
Towering over her five foot curvaceous frame,
He found one of him not so enamoured…
Possessed wast she more of murderous thoughts most impure

His back turned, off came his white mask for a red one
Removing his royal garb, buck nakkid save his mask…
the view washing away her rancour
She gasped, for it was he…her dream man…
He who caused her to fervently masturbate behind closed doors
With a complexion so dark and smooth, she knew him to be a fellow Moor
Following his cue, let fall did she her binding haute coutoure’
Revealing a physique he would gladly wage war for…
Finger tapping his chin, daymmm had she curves galore
Smiling, he led her to his sumptious and cavernous mirrored boudoir
Turned her upside down, drank he lustily. . . quaffing her luscious pucce'd liquer
  
With blood rushing to her head, all control she lost…
succumbing to the charms of his tongued grandeur
Exploding all over his face, so voluminous was her vulvic downpour
Had her howling like a she-were roaming the infamous Scottish moors
Now fully understood she her dreams…. for this rite of passage…
wast solely for her pleasure
From this day forward, carnal royalty would be they both forever more

@2010 March