The Dreaming Tree

You don't stop pumping,
It's a fair way to the peak,
That violent climax, the perfect carrot,
Dangling in front of your beaded brow,
You grip her harder, she whimpers,
You smirk, such is our love,
Your thighs scream for mercy,
Your heart reminds you of all that metal,
She knows you're inching closer,
The anticipation grows,
A little more, a little harder,
More intense than ever before,
That last drop of sweat drops off of your chin,
Onto her shimmying body,
And as that final gust wind greets you at the top,
You know nothing can wipe that grin off your face,
There are few things as orgasmic,
As a well earned downhill,
And fewer things I love more than Mother Gravity.