31 Flavors

Violence For Breakfast

  want to bare your battle scars.
Brilliant bruises, blackened blemish spots telling the story of a job well done..
If you'd wound me just a little I'd be certain of your satisfaction.
Peroxide bubbling the tracks laid down on back wax.
Sound track to our sinning.
Dental records dented into the space between neck and shoulder.
Breast biting ball gags to mute your moans,
considerate of the sleeping because its so early in the morning.
Mourning the loss of broken jewelry, busted bra straps.
Beautiful bang marks from hitting bedroom floors and bathroom sinks .
Our post coital conditions should resemble car crash survivors.
Creak cracking joints back into place from the jumble of positions we jammed ourselves into.
Tight corner tantric tumbling before we ever make it to the mattress.
Making misery faces from the bliss of it all,
all the while getting wetter because it hurts so good....

31 Flavors

 Spiritual almost,

the ritualistic ways.

Always with the lick from collar to crown.

Laying them down,

sweet kiss of the hip bone and inner thigh.

Just a nibble.

The tongue, the tongue moving dumb numb,

drip, dribble.

Dribble.

Spelling kindergarten words on flesh so yielding.

Healing vision in screaming eyes.

I won't say a word.

That five blunts of Kush look gushing the promise of

orgasms to come.

Cum again and again. 

The best part of sex is the flavor.

Angry Masturbation

 Close your eyes.
Spread your legs.
Scratching out the meanest mixes
on a quivering clit,
she's shivering despite
the heat.
so hot in
that glory hole,
sucking at your digits
as if trying to suck
the sum of your being into the
almighty vagina.
Don't lose focus.
Keep the face in mind.
The one you can't have.
Or the one that you left.
Eat that !
More spit,
oh yea right there.
Pruny fingertips.
Keep going.
Breast caressing,
turgid nipple twisting,
you're almost there.
Fast forward to your favorite scene,
or click on another link.
Yes, that's it.
Dip a tip into that slick stuff.
Faster.
Faster!
Not too much pressure. Whip your clit to and fro
like vinyl on a
turn table,
squirt to the high heavens,
like a true DJ Hero.

Something Familiar

 Sinewy silhouette,
yet so sturdy to the touch.
I think I like the way it feels.
No more or less than what it is.
It is what it is,
and that's what I dig about it.
No pretense or pretending.
As they say,
you already know.
So smooth like a butta baby
but never fails to prescribe that
coco cure.
Smiles all around.
May I have another?
Like catnip,
making my purr.
I'm the Tom to your Jerry.

Fantasies

 Daydreams reminiscent of nighttime emissions,
I ponder the possibility of said events reoccurring.
Every sexual encounter melding into one,
an overwhelming feeling of arousal,
what is this utopia called?
By what name do I call this phenomenon?
My thighs quiver ever so slightly at the thought,
but what am I imagining?
If I could say,
if only I could say.
It's a secret,
the visions in my head.
So wet, oh so very wet.
Yes.
Right there.
Wake up darling,
and open your eyes with a smile.

Beautiful Breasts

 The sweet swell of mammary mounds
cause my lips to pose in pucker position,
predetermined that I shall forever seek this softness.
The heaviness in my hands turns
each breath light and shallow.
Heart pounding beneath my own bosom.
Like braille, I read the bumps encircling the hardening areolas
before me.
They tell a tale of a river that runs through her.
At first sight I love to have the lady standing,
So that I may feast until filled,
Upon the beauty of the hang and shadow.
Stalking around her to the side so as to see the profile view
of their portrusion from her frame.
The vision of nipples pointing up, down or dead ahead.
Unable to fight the urge any longer, my lips brush just the titanium tips,Tongue following to taste her.
I'll watch her all the while so she can see her beauty in my eyes
as I suckle what she was gracious enough to offer.
Cares...