the threesome

we had a friend that night
who, given his hand, could
paint us as bouguereau
would have, another scene
in his sumptuous piece:
nymphs and satyr.

she was youth-bound always
with the fairest soft hair
and a laugh made of warmth
and untied, pure spirit
that made my heart pulse for
her breasts, her mouth.

he was slender as a
faun, aching as one too.
his stare, that vexing thing,
made my insides hot, hot,
because i knew what he could
do with those hands.

i was the changeable
dryad, the newfound bound
between pelvis and mouth.
my bright eyes, my soft cunt
lured them like any drug,
mostly nepenthe.

i kissed her hard, she him,
a rare, fervid threesome.
joy without jealousy.
my heart quickened and
swelled to feel his breath
and hers on me.

lust or love, as tangled
as limbs and tongues. there is
no answer for creatures
like us, nymphs and satyrs.
i pulsate with orgasm,
lovely and free.