Another erotic poem… this time for my writer Adrian… I will make this the place where I will write about my most carnal fetishes and desires. I hope you like it. "The Congress and the Writer: Verses of Love and Sin" The peach-colored sky over Vila Velha was already announcing dusk when our eyes met for the first time. Adrian was sitting at the bistro table, his fingers lightly drumming on his wine glass while his blue eyes… as deep as the sea we saw from the balcony… scanned me with a mixture of curiosity and contained desire. “Jani…” He smiled, standing up and taking my hand with a mixture of delicacy and possession. His fingers slid over my wrist, causing goosebumps. “Finally.” “Finally,” I repeated, feeling the heat rise up my neck. Our conversations via text message didn’t lie: each word of his was like a verse, each look, an invitation. As we discussed literature and the madness of the conference, his hand “accidentally” brushed my knee, then my thigh, and I couldn’t help myself: “Do you do this with all your readers?” I teased, biting my lip. Adrian laughed softly and leaned forward, his hot breath on my ear: “Only with the ones who drive me crazy with desire.” He continued the conversation, looking at my lips: “Wonderful psychologist…” He smiled, pulling my chair to sit next to me, instead of in front. “So you like to analyze people… to know what makes them moan.” I squeezed my legs together again. “It depends on the patient.” He laughed softly and, under the table, his hand found my knee. “What if I were your patient today? If I confessed that I have a compulsion for intelligent women who wear dresses that are too tight?” His fingers slowly moved up my thigh. “And that I dream of ripping them off with my teeth.” The park was nearly empty when we arrived, the air thick with the scent of flowers and the promise of rain. We walked to a hidden clearing where tall trees shielded us from prying eyes. Before I could speak, he pulled me against him, and his mouth found mine with a hunger that made me moan. His fingers tangled in my hair, tugging lightly, while his other hand slid down my dress, squeezing my waist, then my ass. "Do you have any idea what you do to me, Janice?" He nibbled on my lip, his hands cupping my breasts through the thin fabric of my dress. "Every time you post those tight lingerie pictures on your private profile, I get hard in the middle of work, crazy for you. Meeting you has been perfect." I gasped as his fingers found my nipples, hard and sensitive. "Do you… masturbate thinking about me?" He chuckled, his mouth moving down my neck. "Every day. I imagine you on all fours on my bed, moaning as I fuck you and tell you all the dirty things you deserve to hear." His hand slipped into my cleavage, pulling my bra down and exposing my breasts to the night air. "Want to hear one now?" Before I could answer, he took a nipple between his teeth and ran his tongue over it, sucking it so deliciously, making me moan his name. — "What's up, Adrian…" He gently grabbed my hair, while his other hand slipped into my dress, finding my soaked panties. "Fuck, you're dripping…" He tore the fabric with a sharp movement and two fingers entered me at once, curving inside. "That's it. Rub them. I want to feel you getting even wetter." I writhed, his fingers jerking me with a precision that drove me wild. When the rain began to fall, thick and hot, Adrian didn't stop. He just turned me onto my back, bent me over a wooden bench, and pulled my buttocks back. "Open wide." His voice was a command, and I obeyed, arching my back. He spat between my legs, rubbing the head of his cock at my entrance before thrusting in with one brutal blow. I moaned, but he covered my mouth with his hand. "Hush. There are people passing by." He pointed to a distant couple, even as he began to fuck me with deep thrusts. "They can't hear the sound of your wet pussy swallowing my cock... but I can." I was crazy for that cock... he exclaimed, "Not yet." He pulled me up, his cock still inside me, and we walked to a thicker bush. "Now sit down. I want to watch you ride me until you come." And I did. Straddling him, my thighs burning with exertion, I bobbed up and down as he watched me with dark eyes, his hands squeezing my breasts, pinching my nipples. "Come, Janice. I want to feel you squirt this fucker." And I did, crying out as my body shook. He didn't come, though. He just smiled, stood up, and pulled me by the hand. "Now for the beach. Because I'm not done with you yet." To be continued...