And finally, I remember damp leaves and fine silty mud slowly coating my hair, back, arse and thighs. And his knees.
I watch my face
naked and ripe with desire
luring the eye
of your digital cock.
Knowing damn well its not tentacles I’m craving
but the lens flare of your attention
Did I read too much in yr offhand comment? Maybe the card game was all you meant…
I wrote this poem about two weeks ago after the featured incident, and it’s been sitting in my drafts waiting for the right moment.
Will we take tea, polite strangers
(And time yet for a hundred indecisions, And for a hundred visions and revisions)
You the proper host, laying out pleasures and national treasures
For my delectation?
I’m in the naughty corner on Twitter and needed to find a way of diverting myself that didn’t involve housework. This is a (rather dry) rendering of DH Lawrences poem, Figs, which is both sensual and dour. (I would still probably be seduced/induced to orgasm by a reading such as this, especially if I was naked and splayed out on a bed)
Like a naive protagonist in a fractured fairy tale, I strayed, along with my favorite sexy blue headphones, into a surreal forest of erotic blue images… And a man, a silhouetted stranger, cock in hand in blue tinged room… Signs and wonders.
I had to continue.
I was having a break, coffee in hand, checking out the latest posts and wondering who I could nominate for #SoSS this week when I spotted the following posts: Good thing I was already in […]
Original erotic poetry Since I’ve enjoyed reading poems written by fellow bloggers on Sinful Sunday I decided to have another look at some that I wrote quite a long time ago but never published. These […]