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A Fever In Jackson (erotic poem)
All stories on this web site are purely FICTIONAL. The people depicted within these stories only exist in someone's IMAGINATION. Any resemblence between anyone depicted in these stories and any real person, living or dead, is an incredible COINCIDENCE too bizarre to be believed. If you think that you or someone you know is depicted in one of these stories it's only because you're a twisted perverted little fucker who sees conspiracies and plots where none exist. You probably suspect that your own MOTHER had sex with ALIENS and COWS and stuff. Well, she didn't. It's all in your head. Now take your tranquilizers and RELAX.
A Fever in Jackson
We met at the train station in Jackson
Sweat broke through the fabric of my thin,
White cotton dress, staining the armpits.
His dark denim was similarly stained.
The sweet musky scent of our bodies
Was exciting and quite provocative.
The screeching train arrived in the night's heat.
One look at him and a fever broke out.
I could see the fever on his face too.
His eyes roaming over the soft mounds
Of ample breasts under soiled cotton,
Heaving in the humid air of Jackson.
My eyes noticed the hardened bulge
Of his desire in those blue denim jeans.
She began to take on fuel and water,
for the hot rail journey to Memphis.
His bearded face met mine and my full lips
Turned up and met the force of his kiss.
Tongues met tongues, swirling together.
With mutual consent, we found a place
In the rear of the platform, secluded.
His hands were instantly on me, touching
The heaving breasts through the soaked fabric.
Steam hissed from the engine's pistons.
Fire belched from the hot iron smoke stack.
My hand went to his zipper, expertly
Opening him to my ministrations.
He was hard in a heartbeat, pulsing there;
His length spread across my own tiny palm.
In a sudden motion he removed my
White cotton panties, planting his hand
On the throbbing mound of my eager vulva.
Its vibrations rocked the wooden platform.
Its pulsing beat caused our hearts to stir.
He thrust into me, leaning against the wall,
And gasping for air, my lips left his,
And a stockinged leg raised for entry.
His musky scent and mine filled the air
In that cloistered space, as sweat dripped
From his beard onto my now-bared breasts.
We were both panting as pressure built
In the throbbing engine waiting beside us.
His pounding cock against my damp pubis
Left me wanting the rapture of release.
His length filled me and ground my clit
Whenever it retracted from inside me.
And then, he was gushing into my tunnel
My hand covering his mouth to prevent
The scream that wanted to leave his throat.
The engine gave forth with a trembling hiss.
Fire belched again from the smoke stack,
and the whistle's excitement fed us.
My own screams were coming as one leg
Wrapped about his waist preventing his escape
And holding his thrusting member in me.
The glory of rapture, spilling out of me,
As my head tilts back and a cry emerges
"Oh, please don't stop. Oh.. please don't stop."
We ran for the train, and boarded her
as she moaned, shuddered and moved.
We left Jackson that night, in a fever.
Ellen
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