Morning
Light
I see his head,
Pink, peeking out
From the shadows
of his drawers.
Peeking at me
Into the light.
I withdraw him
Caress him with delight.
I kiss and suckle,
My lips oh-so-tight.
My face in rapture held
In this morning light.
He holds my head
With all his might
Nourishing me,
Whetting my appetite.
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The Curve of His
Chest
His shirt, slightly loose,
Defines his pecs, his chest.
As the wind ripples the fabric
I feel my need to touch.
So hard, under that shirt.
They fit the curve of my palm.
That tiny hard nipple
Falls to my thumb.
I caress him,
my growing need shows.
He kisses me,
His hands mirror mine |
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Loving caresses
Her hands were like her words,
soft and caring. Within minutes
my sighs were audible
through out the room.
Her kisses caused my body
to shiver in lust.
I needed her lost touch.
She shared with me his
Loving spew, his cum
She shared his cock within me too.
And her husband,
Watching from over there,
Cleaned us both with loving care.
His cock was dark, her lover.
His cum was sweet, so white.
Not like his skin, not like his face.
But like her husband's mouth and hands
Eager, hard, gentle, ready. |
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Wondering
She wondered if he and his wife (sweet she must be)
had made love the night before.
She wondered if he saw her body, not his wife's
as they coupled.
She wondered if he thought of her as he
held his cock pissing a stream of pee |
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Dottie
In my sleep, feeling your fingers touch me,
Feeling your loving kiss as I dream.
Even in my dream I know I am dreaming
As I enjoy your caresses, your sweet love.
The tender way you say I love you,
The strength of your love as we touch,
The promise of union as I read your words
A fight of fantasy that makes my very day.
Chatting with you as we explore
The wonders or erotic cyber love
Together, separatly, but united
In our love, our joined spirits soar.
I love you Dottie.
I love you Penny
Deni
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The Street Whore
I love you sweet man on my street.
I love how you have your little devil woman, and your wonderful
church going wife.
We both love sex.
We both love you.
She is the lucky woman that gets to sleep with you
And talk with you whenever you are home.
She is what makes you tick
And makes you feel like going to work everyday
And bring home that eternal pay check.
She is the mother of your children.
She is the perfect trophy wife for you.
I am happy that you have her for your wife,
A chaste lover, your day to day companion.
I am your dark temptress,
Your woman of the street,
Waiting in the dark corner for your lights to flicker off,
So that we might share secret kisses, caresses,
My patron, my fuck master, my brief owner.
I know my proper place in your life,
And it is to satisfy the darker urges
That torment men in the night
When their wives sleep peacefully, ignorant,
Not knowing, the primal nature of the male.
That need to conquer,
To own,
To take a woman in quick base manner,
To fuck her without regard,
To create a wider legacy
Than is available by monogamy,
To swell the number of earthly bodies
Carrying your carnal genes,
To ensure dominant male's genes
Are those that survive.
So here I am, never really seen, shadowy,
Deeply in love with your touch,
Your cock,
Your manner of using me.
No need to be politically correct with me.
I adore your baser needs.
I adore your heavy and brutal hand.
I relish your erotic beatings of my fragile body.
I love your strapping of my tender flesh.
My body is yours to have or discard,
Without penalty, repercussion.
No lasting problems if I disappear,
Just a fucking street whore,
A prostitute of no value in your greater scheme of things.
I know that I have no real consequence.
I was bred to feel that this is my way.
I am flesh to be consumed and shat,
I am my life, hidden, used, discardable.
I am satisfied, perhaps protected
By my status as your street whore.
No expectations of you, . . .
Of being more than I am.
I am content, yes even so,
I like being me,
She who can give into her basest desires,
Fuck lusts, lewd and lascivious needs.
I can be that which every man fantasizes
When they "make love" to their proper wife.
I am what fills your head as you drive toward Christian orgasm,
Your search for prim and proper release,
You need my mental stimulation,
The vision of my shapely naked body
After years of a same calm partner,
You need me to cum within her, your vanilla wife.
I am that fantasy that then allows you to breed your wife,
Your proper, dutiful and legal wife.
My fantasy brings forth your spew,
Your orgasm which floods her chaste
Receptive body with the very sperm
That gives you your doting off-spring,
The very children which bring you love,
And grandchildren Even a life worth living.
I am integral to the cycle of the generations,
I am needed.
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Anticipation
Tomorrow, we will touch again, Kiss, caress, and love again.
Tomorrow, hard to sleep. Hard to wait. Hard. |
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