Everyday Erotica

Awakening

My first bikini was blue
and white, a Hawaiian print
that dipped low past my belly
button, clung to my hips
and pushed me
up into cleavage.

Linda's mother pinned me
with her eyes up and down,
pinned me like a butterfly
and said "Stacked."

I wanted to run away,
but later when I sat
atop the pool ladder,
crossing my legs
and bending to laugh
with the girls

I saw Kenny Muccha
watching me and I knew
this is a whole other
game.
 
Pluck

I think it was when
she bent over the tomatoes,
looking for one quite perfectly ripe.

I was really so very sorry
that I stared
at how low her neckline

drooped over the produce, as if
she were casting random blessings over
those secondary fruits.

Meanwhile, all I wanted to taste
hung close before me--
the swollen part of a flowering tree.
 
American Novel 101

By the time we read Updike
I can tell you want to subvert us,
open us to irony and the danger
inherent in organized systems,
institutions like this one
where bees drone outside
the window and the late summer
heat smells grassy.

By the time we've reached Nathanael
West, I am Miss Lonelyhearts'
worst accolyte, seduced
by your determined bookish ways
and wanting more than words--
to take the skin and fur, the bone
of you urgently yes and surround
you with silk flesh, engulf you
and make us complete, if only
for moments.

Somewhere between Mike Hammer
and his ridiculous similes
and cool ascerbic Dorothy P,
I meet Justin, your teaching assistant
and see the way you look
at each other and realize oh
I am mistaken I am naive, foolish
shame burns until we read Bellow
and all is forgiven.
 
Appetites

You stood beside my chair
and talked across the table
to my wife.

You were wearing leggings
and your husband's shirt.

I could have run the fingers
of my right hand
up your inner thigh
lithe and warm and tan
beneath its second skin
maybe stopping
below the junction
with your other limb
or maybe not.

Such a gentle gesture
might have given
much pleasure
but instead
I kept that hand
gently spinning ice
in my almost empty glass
as you discussed
tomorrow's plans
with my wife.

Then you left.

"I'm sorry dear
that Annie bores you so.
Finish up your drink
and we'll take a walk
along the beach
and work up
an appetite
before dinner."

::
 
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Inspired by Sin by Fool – 5/28/06

….and so we sin

He whispers heat and
delicious sin. Suggests
transgressions through
the night as our bodies
meet halfway to heaven.

He kisses my smile
still questioning his
intentions, his fingers
follow tender trails
that find me fighting
for a my breath.

We murmur
of fine wines,
lush sweetness
and velvet ropes.
He whets my weaknesses,
feeds my greed
until I yearn
to own his reality.
 
Is it a sin?
Yes, that's what makes it so exciting,
but it certainly isn't bad
when the touch of your tongue
on my clit feels so good!!
 
A Puzzlement

It's not as if giving head
is off our agenda,
she seems eager to kneel
between my knees
as I anticipate the first touch,
the little sucking kiss
she gives the tip that makes
the precum flow. I can feel
the muscular pull as she swallows,
drawing me deeper
into that strangely mobile tunnel
full of sensations, warm,
wet, ecstatic.

Closed eyes might heighten
my pleasure but I watch her
concentrated efforts, the serious eyes on mine
and that engorged meal she devours.
I have learnt to stay flat, thrusting hips cause
her to gag and an end to this bliss
so I hold her hair aside
as if she’s puking while she moves over me
like a piston. She knows the signs,
my rapid breathing, the stiffening of my back,
the swelling in her mouth and
pulls away to finish with a hard fist.

She swallows copious precum,
expertly mouths me to orgasm
but refuses to swallow the results and
neither of us know why.
 
Vocabulary 101

Teaching the meaning of "gratification" to young men is sticky.
 
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canning peaches to
day but my mind wanders to
another ripe peach
dripping juice over your pussy
then slowly licking you clean
 
Limited Edition (Burn)

Any press operator will tell you
that paper only wants to fold
along its grain.

So I apologize
for wanting you to bend
in ways you found uncomfortable

or which made you uneasy.
I must confess, though,
that I still want to make that crease,

form that perfect origami crane,
even with its severe folds.
But now it seems some other women

might be more happily
compliant with my objectives. So,
I suppose this means



goodbye



and I'm really sorry about
that brand. It seemed such a great idea
at the time. I don't know why.


At least you should remember me?
 
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Smoke & Heat

Wet warmth whispers down my throat
I feel it coat inside as it slides
smooth over curved breast
hovers, hangs...just...off the tip
before you suck the nipple deep
--down, farther
as more of that smokey liquid
amber fires up my skin
flows down into navel:
lick from that dainty soft cup,
its delicate florid whorls only
a preview of what's to come
below

Keep pouring the flame,
the trickle mingles with my own
treacle for your tongue,
spare me no swirl, no fire as fingers
follow and invade
anoint my wet lips with yours

suck the streaming flow now, suck
the alcohol-mixed sweat and all I can
give you from my sodden lips
suck my every drop
I am your whiskey woman
swallow me hard
swallow
me
 
I dreamed of you biting the ends of my nipples
before continuing downwards
to swipe your tongue repeatedly over my clitoris
while feeling up my anus with a lubed finger.
You climbed on top to insert your penis in my cunt
thrusting in full length again and again
before pushing my legs up higher.
Held me down, tipped me back and with one stroke
slid from cunt to anus, holding me down as I squealed,
then sodomised me fast and hard.
Until with a groan you erupted into my bowels,
filling me with hot spunk. You didn't pull out immediately
but let my muscles hold you in until you softened
and looking me straight in the eye .... urinated.
 
my writing mojo has left me but I'm still trying

she caught my eye (lol cliche much, in fact so cliche its making me sick)
 
Reception

On great green lawns the women
stroll in twos and threes, slim-legged
as birds, prim in pastel or brazen

bright as jewels, smart suits appropriate
to a regal occasion; silk brocade
that whispers when they move and hints

of décolleté when they bend to smooth
a skirt. They're doe-eyed and fragrant--
jasmine, ocean, peony scents their skin

and lingers by them. They wear hats
that point and tilt to sharp angles or, tiny,
sprout from the head, curly or feathered

cockades risen to astonishing heights
as if to signal their fertility, remind
that a mating ritual is underway.
 
One Night Stand

A perfect drop of sweat
clings tenuously to her,
still erect, nipple
as she straightens her arms
to hover above me, smiling.

I’m compelled to catch it,
sea memory on my tongue.
We both breath hard
and I'm still tingling from
our climax as she eases
me from her, the feeling
of abandonment is tangible.

I can reproduce that
sense of loss at will
by conjuring up her
smile, post coital kiss
goodbye, her smell.
 
A woman runs by me
each morning

as I walk around the paved path
of the reservoir park.

She runs comfortably,
arms loose at her side, legs

lifting easily in what's well more
than a jog.

As she passes me, I always admire
her trim hips, snug

in spandex running pants. But
what pricks at the man in me

is her hair—long, gathered
at the nape

of her neck, a black
that is veined deeply with gray.

I have never seen her face.
Yet how I long to lift the drape

of that beautiful hair
and kiss her shoulders. Kiss her neck.
 
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Agitated

The laundromat was empty.
I was leaning against the machine,
elbows propped, reading. I think
it was a spring day because I was

wearing capris and a short-sleeved
blouse. You came up behind me
and nudged me against the machine
with your big hands on my hips

pressed to me as that washer whirled
bumpity bump, rippling on us.
You whispered in my ear and your lips
were touching it when you said exactly

what you wanted. I made the sounds
one makes in these instances, soft
as we spun a little dream in that green
afternoon of passing cars, hot towels.
 
Music Theory

Lucinda* sings like her pussy is wet
you say with conviction, with that gleam

you get when your eyes hunger, when
moment is delicious with possibility. Fuck

the snow that doesn't stop, the plow
guy that will make us a misery tomorrow

and who cares right now because a woman
is like a guitar you say, music is so sexual.

I'm hard pressed when you're showing,
not telling anymore to think past Miles'

mouth, embouchure, muscle memories.
The snow doesn't hear our song.


*https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=p1B4Q0hugV8
 
Sin

He whispers heat and
delicious sin. Suggests
transgressions through
the night as our bodies
meet halfway to heaven.

He kisses my smile
still questioning his
intentions, his fingers
follow tender trails
that find me fighting
for a my breath.

We murmur
of fine wines,
lush sweetness
and velvet ropes.
He whets my weakness,
feeds my greed
until I yearn
to own his reality.
 
seis

when you open to me
like this I sometimes wish
my tongue was a feather
because I want my touch
gentle enough to fly

.
 
Bar Harbor

I had four stolis
and cranberry juice. God
only knows what you had.
I can't remember shit
from Shinola as we motervate
back to the motel room.

We're happy drunks. We
cross the parking lot and push
into each other before the door
is open. You, ever the ass man,
put hands on my cheeks, angle
me up on that bulge and kiss

down my neck as I laugh
at a night so cool and salty,
scrumptious with ocean scent
but marred by bar noise and not
even so dark in this fucking
parking lot, so we clutch
and jerk our way into the room.

We're dangerous
I tell you when we're naked
and breathing hard, when I
have you pinned to the bed
with my hand on your chest.

You're dangerous,
you say and watch my mouth
like you're still hungry, not
for what you want it to do
to you but because you love
my imagination, which is rich
and filthy with words that fall
on you, making you tremble.
 
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Myopathy

Well. I cannot move
this indifferent arm.
But then she took my quiet hand

and at least I could watch
her finish herself
with dead fingers.

I felt her warmth,
her wetness,
even if only as spectator.

For now, I can still bend forward
to kiss. For now,
that must suffice.

For now. For now.
Somewhere I can hope there's still
happiness

in the luxury of her body,
whose different paths I can no longer
openly explore.
 
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