Naked she lay, clasped in my longing arms,
I filled with love, and she all over charms,
Both equally inspired with eager fire,
Melting through kindness, flaming in desire;
With arms, legs, lips close clinging to embrace,
She clips me to her breast, and sucks me to her face.
Her nimble tongue (love’s lesser lightning) played
Within my mouth and to my thoughts conveyed
Swift orders that I should prepare to throw
The all-dissolving thunderbolt below.
My fluttering soul, sprung with a pointed kiss,
Hangs hovering o’er her balmy brinks of bliss,
But whilst her busy hand would guide that part
Which should convey my soul up to her heart…

This not-safe-for-Tumblr excerpt from John Wilmot, Second Earl of Rochester, continues here.