Tuesday, 25 April 2017

Dating Sights


“Send me a picture of your pussy”,
he messaged, so she
made him a movie of her
rouged CSL’s saying “Sadly, my
cat won’t cooperate and so
from now on these lips are
sealed”.

 
(Image used by kind permission of Holden-and-Camille.com, and also Holden-and Camille.Tumblr.com, to whom I am most grateful and you should go visit. The poem is my imagination and is not a reflection of their lifestyle)

Monday, 10 April 2017

Grip







His too-long absence made his
grip too tight—
tears of fabric,
tears in eyes, her
pulse a tattoo of
desire, choked,
condensed.

 
(Image used by kind permission of Holden-and-Camille.com to whom I am most grateful and you should go visit. The poem is my imagination and is not a reflection of their lifestyle)

Saturday, 25 March 2017

Stripes








She knew she was often bad,
knew too that he would
never harm her, so sometimes
she would kneel in the sun and
imagine what his
stripes would feel like across
her bare back.

 
(Image used by kind permission of Holden-and-Camille.com to whom I am most grateful and you should go visit. The poem is my imagination and is not a reflection of their lifestyle)

Sunday, 19 March 2017

As he left her







We met awkwardly in the
narrow hallway between the
bedrooms, two naked men unsure
how to greet, his dick still dripping, mine
ringed with the red lipstick
reapplied by his wife to
wake me up.

“Breakfast! Half an hour?”
“Great!” With a nod we parted to
reclaim our wives, and
pushing open our bedroom door,
pushing through the scent of recent sex,
I found her as he left her,
replete and wet.

 
(Image used by kind permission of Holden-and-Camille.com to whom I am most grateful and you should go visit. The poem is my imagination and is not a reflection of their lifestyle)

Thursday, 2 February 2017

The Importance of Good Furniture


The tallboy caught a shaft of
sunlight in the shop and I
knew immediately it would be
perfect placed between the
two bright windows of my bedroom
and I had just the mirror to
put above it in which we
both could see your face
purpling in passion, the
height just right so that
without your heels you were
forced onto tiptoe to get the
depth you desired, your
breath misting the image, your
flailing hair sweeping it clear.

Tuesday, 3 January 2017

Down


 
You bit your lip whilst I
carefully shaved your pubis,
your eyes dancing between
fear and lust, wanting to be
bare for me but
unaware how the
slanting sunshine
lit with fire the
fine down that
everywhere adorned your
beautiful body.

 
(Image used by kind permission of Holden-and-Camille.com to whom I am most grateful and you should go visit. The poem is my imagination and is not a reflection of their lifestyle)