bogusagain
Literotica Guru
- Joined
- Feb 18, 2009
- Posts
- 844
I couldn't help myself. In response to sexual fantasy poetry, I just had to write a poem from the point of view of the other partner who wasn't having the fantasy, as an antidote. I just thought there might be some interesting results. Feel free to post your anti-fantasy poem on this thread if you have one.
Another fantasy (sigh)
I had her walk on six inch heels
not because she could
(for she says of herself
she is not the most elegant of women)
but because she will try
and try hard!
for such an apparent trivial task
is emblematic of who she is
tottering between wanting and needing
her wanting to be objectified
her need to be used
the point is, she should fail at this devilish chore
of walking precariously along the line
of what she can and can't achieve
she’ll submit
whether gracefully or through gritted teeth
my red hand imprinted on her behind
all she wants is a fantasy
to appear readymade like a takeaway
delivered up by a pizza delivery boy
most of the time I couldn’t give a toss
but now and again I think, why not?
so here she is teetering
her arse stuck out, waddling like a duck
my hand firmly gripping her crotch
for some reason she thinks this is love
in her more lucid moments, maybe lust
but all it is to me, is her availability
on days like this I have nothing better to do
so I do her and she says “thank you very much”
no need to thank me I say
I’m grateful for a woman to take my misogyny
it stops me from being locked up
so with the emotion of a piston pump
I grind her from behind
and as she wriggles on the edge of delight
I’m loathe to tell her
she’s just someone to fuck
Another fantasy (sigh)
I had her walk on six inch heels
not because she could
(for she says of herself
she is not the most elegant of women)
but because she will try
and try hard!
for such an apparent trivial task
is emblematic of who she is
tottering between wanting and needing
her wanting to be objectified
her need to be used
the point is, she should fail at this devilish chore
of walking precariously along the line
of what she can and can't achieve
she’ll submit
whether gracefully or through gritted teeth
my red hand imprinted on her behind
all she wants is a fantasy
to appear readymade like a takeaway
delivered up by a pizza delivery boy
most of the time I couldn’t give a toss
but now and again I think, why not?
so here she is teetering
her arse stuck out, waddling like a duck
my hand firmly gripping her crotch
for some reason she thinks this is love
in her more lucid moments, maybe lust
but all it is to me, is her availability
on days like this I have nothing better to do
so I do her and she says “thank you very much”
no need to thank me I say
I’m grateful for a woman to take my misogyny
it stops me from being locked up
so with the emotion of a piston pump
I grind her from behind
and as she wriggles on the edge of delight
I’m loathe to tell her
she’s just someone to fuck
