The Art of Getting Lit Laid

A salty ode

The Harbor and the Lighthouse

The lighthouse stands
Tall, proud and gleaming
Maybe a little to one side
Its posture is leaning

The harbor lies close
Its mouth so inviting
Promising shelter,
Moments warm and exciting

But the lighthouse looks out
To the stormy approaches
Its beams shedding warning
For whatever encroaches

While the harbor looks on
And sees the strong tower.
She secretly longs
To be its true bower

Would it be so wrong?
If the sentinel shifted
And shed all its light
Within the haven, freely gifted

So listen right well
All you resurgent guys
To the murmurs of promise
From wherever they rise

Don’t pass up an offer
But consider, it’s best
To appreciate what’s good
And forget about the rest
Leaning a little to the side...
 
What Color?

You asked her once,
just for fun,
what color her panties were.

She blushed as she whispered a few shades -
pink, black, maybe red.

But somehow,
blue stuck in your head.

Now it’s your daily ritual:
“Are they the blue ones today?”
“Laundry day for the blue ones?”
“Do they even exist?”

She rolls her eyes,
but you know -
the mystery only makes you want her more.

It’s not even about the panties anymore.
It’s about watching her squirm,
laugh,
tease,
and never give you a straight answer.

But one day,
you’ll find out.
And when you do -
you won’t just see her blue panties.
You’ll be the one peeling them off.
 
What Color?

You asked her once,
just for fun,
what color her panties were.

She blushed as she whispered a few shades -
pink, black, maybe red.

But somehow,
blue stuck in your head.

Now it’s your daily ritual:
“Are they the blue ones today?”
“Laundry day for the blue ones?”
“Do they even exist?”

She rolls her eyes,
but you know -
the mystery only makes you want her more.

It’s not even about the panties anymore.
It’s about watching her squirm,
laugh,
tease,
and never give you a straight answer.

But one day,
you’ll find out.
And when you do -
you won’t just see her blue panties.
You’ll be the one peeling them off.
🐊🐢🐻💙♥️
 
The Mythical Creatures of Lit

They wander these halls, half-human, half-mystery, leaving chaos and chuckles and in their wake. Beware, traveler - you may encounter:

The Serial Flirt - Flirts with anyone and everyone, leaving trails of winks, hearts, and “you up?” messages across the land. You’re not special. But hey, neither is anyone else.

The Ghoster - Starts romances like a firecracker, full of sparks and promise… then vanishes into thin air right when you lean in. Were they ever real? Or just a figment of your imagination?

The Oblivious One - You’re polite. You’re nice. But they take your “haha” as a marriage proposal. Resistance is futile; they cannot take a hint.

The Essayist - Responds to “hi” with a three-chapter manifesto on love, life, and the metaphysical meaning of your comma placement.

The Emoji Oracle - Communicates solely in cryptic emoji strings. Are they saying they like you, or that their hamster escaped during a thunderstorm? The world may never know.

The Lurker - Always online, never replies. Yet somehow, they know everything.

And that’s just a start…
What other mythical creatures roam these Lit lands?

First - I feel personally attacked with The Essayist and in the following essay I will explain why....

and second:

The Oblivious One – Misreads everything as an invitation.
 
What Color?

You asked her once,
just for fun,
what color her panties were.

She blushed as she whispered a few shades -
pink, black, maybe red.

But somehow,
blue stuck in your head.

Now it’s your daily ritual:
“Are they the blue ones today?”
“Laundry day for the blue ones?”
“Do they even exist?”

She rolls her eyes,
but you know -
the mystery only makes you want her more.

It’s not even about the panties anymore.
It’s about watching her squirm,
laugh,
tease,
and never give you a straight answer.

But one day,
you’ll find out.
And when you do -
you won’t just see her blue panties.
You’ll be the one peeling them off.
NOTE: I am not the person that this was written about/to, but I just had to reply...

Still Blue?

You know I can’t help it,
I see you, I wonder,
and somehow, the thought of blue
won’t leave my head.

Pink, black, red…
I’ve heard them all,
but my mind keeps circling back
to that shade only I imagine.

I catch the roll of your eyes,
the little smirk,
and it drives me wild.
Every tease, every laugh,
it’s like a secret invitation
I’m dying to accept.

Every day I ask,
“Are they the blue ones today?”
“Or is this laundry day for the blue ones?”
And I know you play along
just to make me squirm.

But here’s the thing, I don’t care about the colour.
It’s you. Always you.
The way you make me ache,
the way you keep me guessing,
the way I’m thinking of peeling them off
long before the answer comes.

But today?
Today I’m the one with a secret.
Red. With the bow.
The pair you love.
Yes, I can see your smirk already.
 
The Mythical Creatures of Lit

They wander these halls, half-human, half-mystery, leaving chaos and chuckles and in their wake. Beware, traveler - you may encounter:

The Serial Flirt - Flirts with anyone and everyone, leaving trails of winks, hearts, and “you up?” messages across the land. You’re not special. But hey, neither is anyone else.

The Ghoster - Starts romances like a firecracker, full of sparks and promise… then vanishes into thin air right when you lean in. Were they ever real? Or just a figment of your imagination?

The Oblivious One - You’re polite. You’re nice. But they take your “haha” as a marriage proposal. Resistance is futile; they cannot take a hint.

The Essayist - Responds to “hi” with a three-chapter manifesto on love, life, and the metaphysical meaning of your comma placement.

The Emoji Oracle - Communicates solely in cryptic emoji strings. Are they saying they like you, or that their hamster escaped during a thunderstorm? The world may never know.

The Lurker - Always online, never replies. Yet somehow, they know everything.

And that’s just a start…
What other mythical creatures roam these Lit lands?
The Dissertationist: Akin to the essayist, this variety of delusional-DM-er likes to send, as their first message, a lengthy detailed description of their kink. So specific is the joy they take in the telling that you can almost feel the heavy breathing & sweaty palms through the text. Should you survive the reading of such horrors (and the "flattering" reasons as to why they've chosen to make you the target of their attentions), you will surely find an invitation to "learn more", followed by a request to message back and tell you how turned on you are at their descriptions of (insert fetish here)
 
The Dissertationist: Akin to the essayist, this variety of delusional-DM-er likes to send, as their first message, a lengthy detailed description of their kink. So specific is the joy they take in the telling that you can almost feel the heavy breathing & sweaty palms through the text. Should you survive the reading of such horrors (and the "flattering" reasons as to why they've chosen to make you the target of their attentions), you will surely find an invitation to "learn more", followed by a request to message back and tell you how turned on you are at their descriptions of (insert fetish here)
This is gold!
 
What Color?

You asked her once,
just for fun,
what color her panties were.

She blushed as she whispered a few shades -
pink, black, maybe red.

But somehow,
blue stuck in your head.

Now it’s your daily ritual:
“Are they the blue ones today?”
“Laundry day for the blue ones?”
“Do they even exist?”

She rolls her eyes,
but you know -
the mystery only makes you want her more.

It’s not even about the panties anymore.
It’s about watching her squirm,
laugh,
tease,
and never give you a straight answer.

But one day,
you’ll find out.
And when you do -
you won’t just see her blue panties.
You’ll be the one peeling them off.
When I was in high school a couple moved in next door and she was beautiful and hot. When she would hang her laundry it was a sight for a young guy to see. i couldn't tell what color she had on but I could see the color of all the ones she didn't. I would play hookie from school just to watch her hang her laundry on Wed.
 
When Words Turn Flesh

When you really like someone in Lit, it doesn’t stay polite for long.
It starts as curiosity - just words on a screen.
Then those words burn. They ignite.

And though you only see their words, they don’t stay flat on the page.
They crawl under your skin.
They shape themselves into a face, a body, a presence that won’t let go.
Every line is a touch, every reply a bite.

Suddenly, you’re no longer just reading.
You’re conjuring.
A whole new world of fantasy opens - untamed, unruly, feral.
You don’t just feel them. You hunger.
You don’t just imagine. You devour.

And if you’re both adventurous enough to take that next step -
to stop hiding behind words,
to reveal yourselves -
you find yourself staring into each other’s eyes.

And when you do, it’s as if the world stops and hushes,
holding its breath as two wonders collide.
You fall into stunned silence -
just admiring, memorizing every detail of each other’s face,
as if etching it into memory forever.

No screens. No distance.
Only the raw truth of recognition:
the fantasy was never just fantasy.

Lit has its own gravity.
And when it pulls you toward someone, you don’t fall gently.
You crash, claws out, teeth bared -
hoping they’re feral enough to crash right back.
 
When Worlds Collide

No matter the distance
The barriers of time and space
When the chemistry ignites
The collision speeds apace

A moment shared
A murmur, a tease
Then the lightning from your eyes
Brings me to my knees

What began with banter
With play and words to provoke
Suddenly sparks brighter
A fire is there to stoke

But the collision is all physics
A burst, a nova, fit to blind
The explosion fills the void
And threatens to blow my mind

The fall is long and free
The will to resist is gone
Come ecstacy or destruction
Desire and you are

One
 
Good evening, you delightful troublemakers!
Off you go to dreamland - don’t forget to pack your joy and a little mischief for the ride. May your sleep be full of laughter, the kind that makes you wake up smiling (or blushing). Sweet dreams, you rascals!
Meanwhile, in my side of the world, my work day begins...
 
Good evening, you delightful troublemakers!
Off you go to dreamland - don’t forget to pack your joy and a little mischief for the ride. May your sleep be full of laughter, the kind that makes you wake up smiling (or blushing). Sweet dreams, you rascals!
Meanwhile, in my side of the world, my work day begins...
Good evening Carmina

I hope your Tuesday is as lovely as you are
 
Good evening, you delightful troublemakers!
Off you go to dreamland - don’t forget to pack your joy and a little mischief for the ride. May your sleep be full of laughter, the kind that makes you wake up smiling (or blushing). Sweet dreams, you rascals!
Meanwhile, in my side of the world, my work day begins...
Have a good work day💋😊
 
Good evening, you delightful troublemakers!
Off you go to dreamland - don’t forget to pack your joy and a little mischief for the ride. May your sleep be full of laughter, the kind that makes you wake up smiling (or blushing). Sweet dreams, you rascals!
Meanwhile, in my side of the world, my work day begins...
I hope Ragasa didn't do too much damage on your side of the world. I have been there when one of those blew through. Hopeful thoughts.
 
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