just porn

fuck it all
I wonder how turned on you would be
if I hurt you
the way you beg to be hurt
how much can you really take?

you crawl on your knees and plead
that you have been a bad girl

Do you know the things these hands have done?

there is a scar from
collapsing a man's eye socket
in one shot
spiral fractures that had him
in fits as he pissed himself

punched a man's nose completely off his face,
I am damaged goods woman
and you beg of me
stir the anger in my blood
the dirty sediment that has settled
but when riled drowns out the clarity
of my normal every day

I snapped a man's wrist radius
and ulna clean from his hand
because he grabbed my throat

had a man bleed from his eyes
from his ears, frontal lobe concussion
and ruptured ear drums

I am violence personified
and
you want that
baby I am too broken
to play this game with you

you slap me
scream at me
I walk through the bedroom door
as if it's a breezeway

shards and splinters fly
as the wrecked remnants
shatter all over the floor

the awe in your eyes
you swallow
exaggerated
in slow motion adrenaline surge

I see you fear
I see you lick a small speck of blood
from the pink of your lip

we can taste it in the air
blood runs down my arms
splinters stick from bulging muscles
as heavy breathing blazes my wild eyes

you slap me again

I snap
with one hand I grab your hair
rip you from your feet
and pin you face down on the bed

rip your pants off and slap your ass
hard enough to bruise instantly,
screaming
you want this
my belt hits the floor
I unbuckle one handed

smash my cock into your
soft heat
and take you
you are wetter than you have ever been

your first cum
wets my thighs
you drip with the searing lust
as this beast
pounds like a pneumatic drill
growling,

I rip your head back
sink my teeth into your neck
draw blood
turn your face and smear it
all over you

a charnel house scene
obscene in its bestial display
you cum again in a screaming fit
of obscenities,
fuck, you chant nose turned up
in a snarl
"yes, fuck my cunt"
you squirt a gush as if my cock has cut an artery
in your lust and you soak the sheets
with your vaginal fluids

I
RAM
MY
ANGER
IN
TO
YOU

I clench and cum
squirting out every last ounce of myself
and collapse

my hand unlocks from your hair
gently, I kiss you
and start muttering my apologies

baby, you pushed me
I'm so sorry

you whisper
you are wrecking my high
shut up
 
your words say undress me,

but you can wait,
suffer in delightful torment
hanging suspended in that lustful moment
until breaking point
where your pussy is so hungry
so demanding
that everything
makes you angry
that the need to be pleased
pound's at your door

to the point where you have to touch yourself
but even that is small relief
like slight rain in 100% humidity
let it build
hang in heavy air

until the moment of entry
is an explosion of
feral needs
when every touch makes the pulse in your skin
burn

untill you slither serpentine
baring the gift
of both pulsing holes
for me to pick the plunder
stick the desire
crushing that need
like monsoonal rain

the slight fumble
at the entrance as lips part,
then slight pressure,
it''s all about the sliiiiidddeeee.
into depths of feeling that take my breath
make me sweat,
make me ache to take this motion
into perpetual thrust and grind
ram it home,

but I love the tease
to slide the tip of my cock down and over a swollen clit
to hear your hiss,
as I hold the tip of on your lips,
make it pulse and throb
filled with my blood
my want for you,
let you know that I am the restraint,
wait until impatience overcomes you,
you try to thrust back,
to take what is mine to give

and I do in one long slow
T

H

R

U
ST
 
Last edited:
fuck it all
I wonder how turned on you would be
if I hurt you
the way you beg to be hurt
how much can you really take?

you crawl on your knees and plead
that you have been a bad girl

Do you know the things these hands have done?

there is a scar from
collapsing a man's eye socket
in one shot
spiral fractures that had him
in fits as he pissed himself

punched a man's nose completely off his face,
I am damaged goods woman
and you beg of me
stir the anger in my blood
the dirty sediment that has settled
but when riled drowns out the clarity
of my normal every day

I snapped a man's wrist radius
and ulna clean from his hand
because he grabbed my throat

had a man bleed from his eyes
from his ears, frontal lobe concussion
and ruptured ear drums

I am violence personified
and
you want that
baby I am too broken
to play this game with you

you slap me
scream at me
I walk through the bedroom door
as if it's a breezeway

shards and splinters fly
as the wrecked remnants
shatter all over the floor

the awe in your eyes
you swallow
exaggerated
in slow motion adrenaline surge

I see you fear
I see you lick a small speck of blood
from the pink of your lip

we can taste it in the air
blood runs down my arms
splinters stick from bulging muscles
as heavy breathing blazes my wild eyes

you slap me again

I snap
with one hand I grab your hair
rip you from your feet
and pin you face down on the bed

rip your pants off and slap your ass
hard enough to bruise instantly,
screaming
you want this
my belt hits the floor
I unbuckle one handed

smash my cock into your
soft heat
and take you
you are wetter than you have ever been

your first cum
wets my thighs
you drip with the searing lust
as this beast
pounds like a pneumatic drill
growling,

I rip your head back
sink my teeth into your neck
draw blood
turn your face and smear it
all over you

a charnel house scene
obscene in its bestial display
you cum again in a screaming fit
of obscenities,
fuck, you chant nose turned up
in a snarl
"yes, fuck my cunt"
you squirt a gush as if my cock has cut an artery
in your lust and you soak the sheets
with your vaginal fluids

I
RAM
MY
ANGER
IN
TO
YOU

I clench and cum
squirting out every last ounce of myself
and collapse

my hand unlocks from your hair
gently, I kiss you
and start muttering my apologies

baby, you pushed me
I'm so sorry

you whisper
you are wrecking my high
shut up
dangerous games, written with fantastic control.

has me concerned more for the narrator in the piece than the sexual partner - it's mentally disturbing and incredibly selfish to push him to the edge of madness for the sake of her sexual high. having said that, this is probably your most mature write in this arena of sex/violence.
 
dangerous games, written with fantastic control.

has me concerned more for the narrator in the piece than the sexual partner - it's mentally disturbing and incredibly selfish to push him to the edge of madness for the sake of her sexual high. having said that, this is probably your most mature write in this arena of sex/violence.

well as writing styles solidify and confidence grows, I guess I'll oush edges and see where it all goes, this piece I was concerned about because it is a pretty personal account and as such has a hell of a lot of "me" in it. yes she was fucking crazy!
 
she is witchcraft
sorcery in bourboun sour mash
vodoo and mud
soft dirt in crystal decanters
sequins, lace
and heels from hell

I swallow
pulse beats at my jugular
jungle drumming
a thrum and throb
that lowers the bass
tones

she rattles ice cubes
like some mystic
marraccas
approaches like a zombie
she wants to feast

she takes the swell of
my tip in icecubed lips

I see red
tied to the bed in this super 8 motel
 
she is witchcraft
sorcery in bourboun sour mash
vodoo and mud
soft dirt in crystal decanters
sequins, lace
and heels from hell

I swallow
pulse beats at my jugular
jungle drumming
a thrum and throb
that lowers the bass
tones

she rattles ice cubes
like some mystic
marraccas
approaches like a zombie
she wants to feast

she takes the swell of
my tip in icecubed lips

I see red
tied to the bed in this super 8 motel

You nailed it
 
sometimes you just have to draw it out
long silences
that hold the keys to those guarded gates
where glances
looks
even the sounds you make
make me mmmmm

crave to blaze a path of flames
trail them from lips, to neck, to navel
plant peppermint kisses
on the lips of your desire
to lick the tingles into a frenzy of want
to hold you on the cusp of
satisfaction
make you grind
gasp for me to pass this torture
to the nirvana
my chest
the thickness of my thighs
the breadth of my back
promise
in all their masculine power

the way you let
my work strengthened hands
pin your wrists in place
so you can't cover the sensitivity of your nipples
the slight rasp and slide of my stubble
the heat of my breath chars its way to your ear lobe
do you want to come for me
do you want me to come for you

heat smoulders from your fuck me eyes
we stare into the depths of each other
a moment where we are more naked than skin
the smirk on my face
tells you
I know what you want
the acquiesce of your neck
tells me
that you can take every inch of pleasure
and dares me to try

my hand travels down to search
with delicate caresses
for the tautness of your sin
to dip inside and find how much you want me
then use that want to slather your clit
in slippery circles
as you arch into the ache
into the release I offer
you want to break all over those infinity signs
I trace
on your labia
and that little nub of lightning
that buzzes you in shocks and shudders
until you cry to god
the god of
fuck
me
kneeling beside you
one hand on your wrists
the other fingering like a maestro
pianist in a concert solo

you moan out
as I place the thickness of my cock
onto your cheek
you greedily engulf my engorged
manhood
as we connect a live wire
circuit of pleasure
and the earth
is waiting to spark us out

I play those keys in fervour, adjusting the pace and
movements
until you have to stop sucking
and concentrate on you
on your pleasure
whisper right
there,
don't
oh fuck
mmmm,
fuck me,
YES,

you come
in wet heat
 
You want this
swelling rise of swollen self
that drowns my thoughts
in blood that throbs

the slickest steps always
slip the best
when pressed
hydrant-pressure pulses
In that slow build

You wind around me
tight
as we settle into that fractured time
when I am yours and you are mine

conected

I growl,
a bear in heat
you squirm and entreat me
to fuck you
treat you like the woman
your nipples scream at you to be
as they graze the cotton sheets

Melded
lubricated to stop the high tension
smoking burn of friction
the slap of your ass as you writhe back
consuming me
balls deep
in your centre

My fingers clasp into the meat of your hips
holding the depth
my eyes closed
you smell of lilacs and berries
if they had been sathered in sin
and served up in piping hot lust

you sound like fuck
echoing through my blood stream
the thud of my heart screaming your name
breathe
I command myself to stay with you
as my hands let you ease off of
my cock
and you take full advantage
there on your knees and I am vulnerable
(Too right, I'm just a man)

You slam your cheek and control
back that slick sound that
unmistakable horny fucking sound
slops against my thighs

the invite to drive
me into a frenzy
the want
the need to please
be pleased
freed from thought and reason

Shower me in your lust
moments before I shower you with mine
the hot splash
on your back
as we lost control together
 
scent lingers in the synapse space
you
your arousal flares alarm bells
code red
sends blood coursing
heart rates and swelling
your urgency a spark-flare
this whirling vortex a flame spout raging

a litany of secrets
your body gleans from me
decoding every move
every moan
high powered computers left in the dust
of raw elements

to press in
to feel you press back
division and acceptance
in slow motion
to catch the first flash of lightning
to feel the first groans of earths tectonic plates
grinding against me

I have the scent of you
at the tip of my tongue
saliva flows
I close my eyes
lap at the lust you offer
luxuriate in the tang
your voice sighing out gasps
losing yourself
dropping shyness,
removing barriers like layers of cloth
the unassuming unleashed
and somehow you fucking need this
as much as I want

gyrations a flutter
in uncontrolled rhythms
music
drumming a lashing of heels
thighs pressed to my ears
hands urging I stop
as your body shudders
pulling my mouth to yours

to taste what spills from your centre
and urge my hardness in
to divide acceptance

motion
demanded in whispers
primal grunts
feminine wails
a snarled lip
attacking nails
feline aggression
feral claws and hissing

release is convulsions
red seeps from my back
you give as well as you got
in the ferocity of
spilled blood and semen

bruises linger and still flare deep
when pressed
 
Artist and Model

She is content to pose
in his varied gaze,
sometimes a coolly critical squint,
sometimes hotly, erotically open.

He seldom touches her,
his hands restless on the canvas
although his eyes take in
every curve and angle.

To test him she will
casually open her eyes
through a veil of lashes,
her thighs, as if to ease discomfort,
her lips, knowing his eyes are there.

If he is tempted he looks away
only to return to her now closed
body, languidly naked,
a Da Vinci smile curving his way.

He cannot fathom if it is desire
or wantonness,
if she is nymph to his satyr?
He hides his desire from her
but she knows her power
and reaches out to touch it
as he flinches away.

Tomorrow,
tomorrow he may allow
her hand to settle but, for now he
tortures them both.
 
Artist and Model

She is content to pose
in his varied gaze,
sometimes a coolly critical squint,
sometimes hotly, erotically open.

He seldom touches her,
his hands restless on the canvas
although his eyes take in
every curve and angle.

To test him she will
casually open her eyes
through a veil of lashes,
her thighs, as if to ease discomfort,
her lips, knowing his eyes are there.

If he is tempted he looks away
only to return to her now closed
body, languidly naked,
a Da Vinci smile curving his way.

He cannot fathom if it is desire
or wantonness,
if she is nymph to his satyr?
He hides his desire from her
but she knows her power
and reaches out to touch it
as he flinches away.

Tomorrow,
tomorrow he may allow
her hand to settle but, for now he
tortures them both.

I wish there were more like this in "New Poems," GP.
 
Artist and Model

She is content to pose
in his varied gaze,
sometimes a coolly critical squint,
sometimes hotly, erotically open.

He seldom touches her,
his hands restless on the canvas
although his eyes take in
every curve and angle.

To test him she will
casually open her eyes
through a veil of lashes,
her thighs, as if to ease discomfort,
her lips, knowing his eyes are there.

If he is tempted he looks away
only to return to her now closed
body, languidly naked,
a Da Vinci smile curving his way.

He cannot fathom if it is desire
or wantonness,
if she is nymph to his satyr?
He hides his desire from her
but she knows her power
and reaches out to touch it
as he flinches away.

Tomorrow,
tomorrow he may allow
her hand to settle but, for now he
tortures them both.

Waassyyy too much class and too well writtwn to be slumming it in the "just porn" thread

This is damn sensual, elegant and erotic as hell..... damn I need a cigarette
 
Thank you both :heart: but in reading it here I can see several renovations needing to be one.

I was intrigued the last stanza. I liked the wistful way it began:

Tommorrow,
Tomorrow he may allow.....


I also thought the 3rd line, if it ended in rhyme, would have added to that wistfulness:

her hand to settle, but for now

and the the 4th and surprising line might have been lengthened, or perhaps I should say prolonged, because "torture" is the key word.

I really liked the poem, GP.
 
Thank you both :heart: but in reading it here I can see several renovations needing to be one.

lol, fine I'll remember to not compliment your poems again until you say it's ok :p

I like it as is, do I think you could make it better, tighter, with more impact, yes, but well that's on you.

me I think it's too good to be sitting anywhere near the crap I write, just saying ;)
 
I told you I would write something that would burn the page
that would make you want to spread yourself
to open to the sensuality of a liftime of sexual gluttony
so you can be finger fed the delicacies
gathered together in a tool bag
and a repetoire of
seedy nights
sorted into orgasm types
textures
sounds
and all the other senses you lose control of
when itgoes haywire
when the only sound is the roar of blood
and the smashing drum beat of come
screaming out names
of forgotten creatures
epiphanies
flow out in a litany of incomprehensible clarity

Lost then
recaptured in damp
moments
when the lights are off and the mind
wanders its way through
stopping before legitimate thoughys of personal demise
or the heavy feelings
a distraction from mortality
because in those precious seconds
you can touch the gods themselves
 
I told you I would write something that would burn the page
that would make you want to spread yourself
to open to the sensuality of a liftime of sexual gluttony
so you can be finger fed the delicacies
gathered together in a tool bag
and a repetoire of
seedy nights
sorted into orgasm types
textures
sounds
and all the other senses you lose control of
when itgoes haywire
when the only sound is the roar of blood
and the smashing drum beat of come
screaming out names
of forgotten creatures
epiphanies
flow out in a litany of incomprehensible clarity

Lost then
recaptured in damp
moments
when the lights are off and the mind
wanders its way through
stopping before legitimate thoughys of personal demise
or the heavy feelings
a distraction from mortality
because in those precious seconds
you can touch the gods themselves

Very rich in its imagery, steamy and sensuous, tod. I think it was Billy Collins who wrote(I'm paraphrasing here) establish the narrative and quickly before you stretch the reader. The first two lines do that well. I might have omitted the "to" which begins line 3.

"when the only sound is the roar of blood
and the smashing drum beat of come
screaming out names
of forgotten creatures"

raised my body temperature.
 
Perhaps you should kneel
between my legs
and spreading my labia
seek for the concealed nub,
coaxing it out
with your fingertips to present itself
to your waiting lips.
 
Perhaps you should kneel
between my legs
and spreading my labia
seek for the concealed nub,
coaxing it out
with your fingertips to present itself
to your waiting lips.
Perhaps I should now kneel and spread
Your long, lean thighs upon our bed,
Roll on my tongue the cabernet
Of hidden pearl with which I'll play
Intently as a newlywed.

Or should I tease and feather? Sled
As stealthy as a copperhead
Through summer grass and lingerie?
Perhaps I should—

For lovely are you as I thread
My path along your thoroughbred
And sumptuous body, where I may
As native or as émigré
With lips and fingers live and tread.
Perhaps? I should.
 
Perhaps I should now kneel and spread
Your long, lean thighs upon our bed,
Roll on my tongue the cabernet
Of hidden pearl with which I'll play
Intently as a newlywed.

Or should I tease and feather? Sled
As stealthy as a copperhead
Through summer grass and lingerie?
Perhaps I should—

For lovely are you as I thread
My path along your thoroughbred
And sumptuous body, where I may
As native or as émigré
With lips and fingers live and tread.
Perhaps? I should.

All of the above! :catroar:
 
Time Well Spent

Morning began with my breasts;
pendulous fruit swaying
over the expanse of bed
as the tree yields to gravity's
persistent tug, then rebounds
resilient, back to height
only to be tempted forward,
to dangle bounty over the hungry
insistence of greedy foragers
reaching for the best
fruit in the sunlight at the top.

Plucking at my flesh like
a migrant worker pinches
the stem to hold perfection
in hands toughened to harvest,
and in a moment's rebellion
lifts sunwarmed ripeness
to his lips, breaking the fragile
skin with bright teeth. Urgent
pucker of lips that draw
sugared nectar inside against
the exploration of tongue
and cheeks before closing
his sparkling eyes in delight.

Morning began that way.
I want to finish it with you
the tree, boldly straight
and tall as my humidity
swallows you, nurtures
the plum you offer to ripen,
skin stretched tight over
the purple hue and so ready,
that when the extra time
is given, engorged you burst.
Good greatly becomes you.
 
Time Well Spent

Morning began with my breasts;
pendulous fruit swaying
over the expanse of bed
as the tree yields to gravity's
persistent tug, then rebounds
resilient, back to height
only to be tempted forward,
to dangle bounty over the hungry
insistence of greedy foragers
reaching for the best
fruit in the sunlight at the top.

Plucking at my flesh like
a migrant worker pinches
the stem to hold perfection
in hands toughened to harvest,
and in a moment's rebellion
lifts sunwarmed ripeness
to his lips, breaking the fragile
skin with bright teeth. Urgent
pucker of lips that draw
sugared nectar inside against
the exploration of tongue
and cheeks before closing
his sparkling eyes in delight.

Morning began that way.
I want to finish it with you
the tree, boldly straight
and tall as my humidity
swallows you, nurtures
the plum you offer to ripen,
skin stretched tight over
the purple hue and so ready,
that when the extra time
is given, engorged you burst.
Good greatly becomes you.

This is erotic poetry at its best, absolutely beautiful. I enjoyed it very much and am sharing it tonight with my wife as a wonderful aperitif before our Valentines Day dinner.
 
Time Well Spent

Morning began with my breasts;
pendulous fruit swaying
over the expanse of bed
as the tree yields to gravity's
persistent tug, then rebounds
resilient, back to height
only to be tempted forward,
to dangle bounty over the hungry
insistence of greedy foragers
reaching for the best
fruit in the sunlight at the top.

Plucking at my flesh like
a migrant worker pinches
the stem to hold perfection
in hands toughened to harvest,
and in a moment's rebellion
lifts sunwarmed ripeness
to his lips, breaking the fragile
skin with bright teeth. Urgent
pucker of lips that draw
sugared nectar inside against
the exploration of tongue
and cheeks before closing
his sparkling eyes in delight.

Morning began that way.
I want to finish it with you
the tree, boldly straight
and tall as my humidity
swallows you, nurtures
the plum you offer to ripen,
skin stretched tight over
the purple hue and so ready,
that when the extra time
is given, engorged you burst.
Good greatly becomes you.
just superb :rose:
 
Perhaps I should now kneel and spread
Your long, lean thighs upon our bed,
Roll on my tongue the cabernet
Of hidden pearl with which I'll play
Intently as a newlywed.

Or should I tease and feather? Sled
As stealthy as a copperhead
Through summer grass and lingerie?
Perhaps I should—

For lovely are you as I thread
My path along your thoroughbred
And sumptuous body, where I may
As native or as émigré
With lips and fingers live and tread.
Perhaps? I should.

as is this :cool:

esp love Sled/stealthy as a copperhead - how frikken awesome's that?
 
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