I Am Slowly Finding The Poems I Lost In The Tumblr Purge Of My Former Site.

I am slowly finding some of my old poems, and old friends, on Tumblr.

Helpless in Lace

There is no reason to rush.  We have the night.  We have tomorrow and I have you,  helpless in lace. 

I fondle the knife in my pocket.  Small and sharp,  I will take my time touching you,  slowly slicing the soft fabric and letting it fall,  enjoying your exposure,  bit,  by bit until it falls in a black puddle at your feet. 

I will touch you, at first as tender as a whisper,  but only at first. 

As my passion rises, I will shed my gentility like a snakeskin and take you like the animal I am inside.  I will make you cry out in pleasure and pain,  and kiss the tears of helplessness as they trace down your cheeks. 

I will force you to your knees violating your tender lips until I am sated,  and then release you to my arms can carry you to bed,  my lover,  my dearest,  my slave. 

What Only I Hear

Cry out. Shout. Gasp. Writhe.

Here you are mine and no one will hear your fear, your surprise or your surrender. You are mine. Now and forever.

After It All

After it all. The night. The taking.

The fantasy and madness.

The beyond expectations and in some cases,

Imagination. After your heart’s wildness,

The heaving breath. The throat sore from cries.

The marks.

After there is no one left but you and I

And the messy memory of our hours

And orgasms. After it all, there is this.

You in my shirt. A cup of tea.

My arms open to hold you

As long as you need to let it all sink in,

Allowing lust to become love

And memory,

and the certainty of more.

When and Where

My hand reaches and finds your thigh,  resting there where all can see, wondering,  like you,  if,  or rather when,  my hand will reach up and claim you,  claim your moist heat for my own,  opening you,  probing you,  never satisfied until you cry out in surrender to your own pleasure. 

They can not know as I know,  that were I to slide my hand slowly up your silken thigh,  right now,  right here,  you would allow it,  the perfect submissive,  always willing to take,  or give pleasure at the moment of my desire. 

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Tumblr killed my former site, The Other Poems, after eight years of poetry and over 12,000 readers and friends. If you like this poem, please consider reposting it so I can find my friends and followers again. Thank you.

By now

By Now

By now you should know. Never say you are mine to do with unless you mean it.

A poem from my banned blog. Thank you to all who send me these!

A Reason to Celebrate the New Year

Somehow, in every place you offer,

I fit. Perhaps stretching the boundaries at first,

But always, in the end,

In the tightest, most forbidden places

That no one sees,

I fit.

I love when one of my poems from my deleted blog finds me!

Touch

There is nothing of yours that touches anything of mine that does not excite. 

Less

The older I get,

The less tame

I like my women.

Incredibly thought-provoking, viscerally intense! Appreciate you for your expressions 🙏🎈

Thank you!

Mine. Yours

You give yourself to me,  surrender more than your body,  but your trust as my fingers caress you,  the flat of my palm smooth against your belly,  down,  slowly down,  smiling as your pelvis rises,  smiling at your helplessness,  your legs tied, spread wide,  one arm tied, one free,  the silk scarves soft and strong both,  you are beautifully vulnerable your body alive under my touch as my fingers approach your heat,  as they slide over your swollen heat,  the damp texture of your loins trembling,  as a tease you, tracing the moist slit that presses upward against my hand that rises then pressed against you, finally letting one thick finger slide in, just barely, sliding up towards your clit, finding it, hard and tender as I kiss your neck, 

You reach out in darkness,  the blindfold tight against your eyes.  My fingers probe as your hand finally finds my cock, you grasp it, your fingers tight around it’s shaft just as I plunge my own fingers deep in you. 

“No” I whisper.  “Caress it. Softly.” You cry out as my fingers swirl hard against your clit,  as another hand grabs your breast,  your excitement building, desperately to pump,  to let your hand reflect your hunger. 

“Caress.” I command  and the strain of it, your body now being mauled by my strong hands, while your hand struggles to obey,  softly sliding over my hardness, cups my balls smooth and shaven, so hungry for me,  but obedient, 

My fingers press your clit firmly now,  the rhythm of them back, forth, firm and steady,  savoring your cry, watching your beautiful fingers  slowly, lightly rubbing me as my own hands  take you hard, your soft breast helpless,  your clit enslaved. 

“Mine.” I say softly, but firmly too,  sure of your giving, sure of your body,  certain the first orgasm of the night  teeters on the edge, as your voice,  uintelligible whimplers,  as my hand commands you to slow your touch even as my own speeds up,  presses harder until you cry out,  as your entire body spasms,  lost in sensation,  as your hands abandon me,  and you grasp the sheets in beautiful agony then falls limp, your bruised chest heaving. 

I straddle you and take your hands and place them against my shaft.  “Now.” I say.  “Now pump me. Make me cum white and hot over your breasts.  and I watch your fingers,  your manicured nails as they surround me and gently move, up and down, slow, firm, 

My sigh tells you,  tells you the pleasure that fills me at the sight of you,  of your touch,  of the knowing that shortly my pleasure will erupt and cover you, the beginning of our night.  Yes, only the beginning,  my own helplessness in love,  no less binding  than the silken scarves that bind you and leave you at my mercy.