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Summertime Hot & Sexy Challenge

G

Guest

Guest
.

Summer is my favorite season for various reasons, mostly because of "sweaty hot sex" and what I don't get much of where I live at now—the sun—which coincidently makes teh sex more sweaty hot. Although, The Farmer's Almanac 2008 does say Zone 14 will have a hot and dry one this year (I won't put my umbrella away just yet.)
Pink_lemonade.jpg



The Challenge:

Write a summer poem. That's it. It doesn't have to be an erotic one, but I would like to read a few hotties that make me sweat for my rainy days.​
*** PS. Does anyone else see a subliminal naked woman in the pink lemonade? Or am I just too horny for my own good?
.
 
No Pale Wail

I think that's why they call it
a crush. It's because it does just that.
It crushes ever-loving thing
making an extract of you.

A triple strength, honey thick,
bones and all.
And all,
your core.
That's what I want to do,

pour a doppelbock and more,
you in a frosty mug.
Suck it in, a hybrid stout
that'll knock me down and fuck
me with one mother of a hangover.
 
Summertime's Hot

I got out my watermelon
pink gloss for my lips
but you stopped me

before I tasted the pretty
on my tongue. Undressed
and nude, my spagetti straps
swirled around my sandals

like some lemony pasta
puddle on my fork.
Taste it. What does yellow
taste like? Oh please,

let me sample the pink
tips of your fingers
and the licorice
honey heating up my night.
 
champagne1982 said:
Summertime's Hot

I got out my watermelon
pink gloss for my lips
but you stopped me

before I tasted the pretty
on my tongue. Undressed
and nude, my spagetti straps
swirled around my sandals

like some lemony pasta
puddle on my fork.
Taste it. What does yellow
taste like? Oh please,

let me sample the pink
tips of your fingers
and the licorice
honey heating up my night.
Click to expand...
:drool emote:
Oh, jeez. Gimme some yellow, I want to taste it.
 
He brings a towel
for chivalry,
to keep the sweat
from dropping onto me

casual
during the fight, he sits back
to watch me
coil and whine

amused
by my hurry
he delays
still, joined

deliberately, he moves
the white towel
across his forehead
and down his chest

only this veteran
of endless campaigns
could be so conscious
within fierce heat

but it's best
when he forgets
and the salt rain
hits my spine

like a summer storm
that cool relief
of his eventual
surrender
 
Jamison said:
:drool emote:
Oh, jeez. Gimme some yellow, I want to taste it.
Click to expand...
I can't remember if it was a thread here or over at Eve's Habit but I recall a challenge to write how a colour would taste or if it had sound. There's a name for it, but I'll be diddled if I can remember.

It's fun, I imagine yellow tastes like morning which sounds like birdsong. So, extrapolating brings us to the conclusion that yellow is a robin's mating trill.. :D
 
Jamison said:
.

Summer is my favorite season for various reasons, mostly because of "sweaty hot sex" and what I don't get much of where I live at now—the sun—which coincidently makes teh sex more sweaty hot. Although, The Farmer's Almanac 2008 does say Zone 14 will have a hot and dry one this year (I won't put my umbrella away just yet.)
Pink_lemonade.jpg



The Challenge:

Write a summer poem. That's it. It doesn't have to be an erotic one, but I would like to read a few hotties that make me sweat for my rainy days.​
*** PS. Does anyone else see a subliminal naked woman in the pink lemonade? Or am I just too horny for my own good?
.
Click to expand...

I see her, Jamison, she is on all fours with a come hither look.

yes, I see her
 
One single drop of sweat
Rolls gently from the widow's peak,
Inches over the brow,
Creeps to the tip of my nose,
And drops onto your breast
As we are joined,
Moving slowly against each other
In the sticky evening
Hidden beneath the dune
Under a Miami moon.
I bow to taste its salty wonder,
You moan softly beneath me,
Body damp with energy and joy,
Gently stroke my back,
Squeeze me between firm thighs.
Muscles tighten,
Skin glistens,
Breath quickens,
Heart races,
Lips curl into a tiny smile,
Reach for mine,
Taste the next droplet on my lips
As I join you.
Steamy summer night.
 
It's not the sun that
makes a summer. It's the way you
worship that blaze, how you sacrifice
your body to it's loving gaze.

Tilt your head back, close your eyes,
let photon fingers write their name
on your bared throat, while a firery tongue
licks it's way along the tan line of your fallen
shoulder strap. I'll hold your hand
while rays nudge your skirt higher
on still pale thighs.

I'll gladly share
from here on your shaded side
while it wakes you, takes you over,
with light.
 
summer


summer


some of the comforters fall
between the bed and the wall
simple summer life
you cover yourself just with five
and you lie still
till she reaches her goal
which is you
and she lets the remaining five fall
too
too hot
she's calling you a spoiled brat
she's right

​


senna jawa
2008-06-26
 
Jamison said:
.

Summer is my favorite season for various reasons, mostly because of "sweaty hot sex" and what I don't get much of where I live at now—the sun—which coincidently makes teh sex more sweaty hot. Although, The Farmer's Almanac 2008 does say Zone 14 will have a hot and dry one this year (I won't put my umbrella away just yet.)
Pink_lemonade.jpg



The Challenge:

Write a summer poem. That's it. It doesn't have to be an erotic one, but I would like to read a few hotties that make me sweat for my rainy days.​
*** PS. Does anyone else see a subliminal naked woman in the pink lemonade? Or am I just too horny for my own good?
.
Click to expand...
I see a woman's nude torso, complete with right breast nipple... the lemon is superimposed over that which has a sleeping face imposed over that. Very cool pic though, no? And yes, it could just be horniness that lets us all see it.
 
champagne1982 said:
I see a woman's nude torso, complete with right breast nipple... the lemon is superimposed over that which has a sleeping face imposed over that. Very cool pic though, no? And yes, it could just be horniness that lets us all see it.
Click to expand...

We need a control group. Maybe we can recruit some people from, like, the Good Christian Wives' Support Forum or something.

They'd probably see a naked lady too and then get all offended and have a protest.

*I'm not jacking; I'm just working really slowly on my next submission for this thread.*

bj
 
Jamison said:
.
Pink_lemonade.jpg



The Challenge:

Write a summer poem. That's it. It doesn't have to be an erotic one, but I would like to read a few hotties that make me sweat for my rainy days.​
*** PS. Does anyone else see a subliminal naked woman in the pink lemonade? Or am I just too horny for my own good?
.
Click to expand...
So far, I'm seeing two faces. Occasionally a third, but I keep loosing her

Mystical Skinny Dipping

Two sprites arrived
at the dawn of summer
When brows glisten
and sweat retreats
to the divine dip of
curvature in taut spines
on course to run
the luge, destined for
southern vales, while
seeking Southern Comfort
from the mammoth heat

The sprites happened
upon the hospitality of
a young poet, anxious
to help in any way
As the sprites were small,
their accomodations were few
They requested naught, but
a chilled glass of pink lemonade
to swim in, like piscean fish
pulling at opposite ends of the line
Gladly they granted the poet
permission to watch, as long as
they could reciprocate as muses
for his poet friends, bringing inspirations
of summer and all it's wonders.

And another Summertime Musing
 
Last edited:
The air shimmers across the fields
an ocean mirage that swells and rolls,
capturing the heads of poppies
and smears them across a canvas
of oils and watercolours.
There is a hum in the air
of a myriad insects questing
the nectar sweetened noon
and the parched earth holds
her secrets tightly rolled
deep in the roots of her being.
She sleeps and waits.
 
Last edited:
Angeline said:
I thought the head was on the left. She looks like a mermaid to me. I always look at the left side first.
Click to expand...

wait! all I see are big boobies, right above the lemon! is this some kind of psychological experiment, Jami?

I see a photo of a naked guy on the wall-- in the background on the right
 
champagne1982 said:
Summertime's Hot

I got out my watermelon
pink gloss for my lips
but you stopped me

before I tasted the pretty
on my tongue. Undressed
and nude, my spagetti straps
swirled around my sandals

like some lemony pasta
puddle on my fork.
Taste it. What does yellow
taste like? Oh please,

let me sample the pink
tips of your fingers
and the licorice
honey heating up my night.
Click to expand...

Jeez, Champers, but that is one terrific poem! I mean it: just terrific.
 
I'm blowed if I can see a single booby but there's a dog asleep on it's back top left hand corner
 
Liar said:
It's not the sun that
makes a summer. It's the way you
worship that blaze, how you sacrifice
your body to it's loving gaze.

Tilt your head back, close your eyes,
let photon fingers write their name
on your bared throat, while a firery tongue
licks it's way along the tan line of your fallen
shoulder strap. I'll hold your hand
while rays nudge your skirt higher
on still pale thighs.

I'll gladly share
from here on your shaded side
while it wakes you, takes you over,
with light.
Click to expand...
Liar, You are a master at embedded rhyme. You sneak it in and before I know it I'm rereading to find them all. Love that, love this. Really fine poem.
 
Sultry and seductive she slips her bonds
Unnoticed she climbs towards the sun
Moving and stretching like a lazy cat, long limbs
Meandering across the landscape, her sweet nectar
Enticing with a smile all who would follow
Reaching out embracing with a lovers kiss.
 
dressing doesn't matter
because clothes cling anyway
and our bodies are barely
breathing as it is
each pore open
everything is rough against

but air and the slick tongue tip
that pushes cubed cold
now curved on the side
that melts against my collarbone

heaven is a parabola of chill
clinging to stiff nipple
Yes flashes silver behind my eyes

as your mouth releases the cure
to slide its trail
down the flat of my belly
degenerating as a fleck in my navel

all afternoon we bathe
this way cube by cube
until we can brush
skins without scratching
too deep
 
PandoraGlitters said:
dressing doesn't matter
because clothes cling anyway
and our bodies are barely
breathing as it is
each pore open
everything is rough against

but air and the slick tongue tip
that pushes cubed cold
now curved on the side
that melts against my collarbone

heaven is a parabola of chill
clinging to stiff nipple
Yes flashes silver behind my eyes

as your mouth releases the cure
to slide its trail
down the flat of my belly
degenerating as a fleck in my navel

all afternoon we bathe
this way cube by cube
until we can brush
skins without scratching
too deep
Click to expand...

Wow, now THAT is a terrific poem. Very hawt!
 
Last edited:
I squinted really really hard at the lemonade picture for like, an hour, and didn't see a damn thing except for a moment when I thought I saw a pony.

What would Freud say, besides that I clearly have no imagination?

bj
 
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