Creation

One of my poems from my deleted blog, found on someone else’s blog.

Wait. Watch.

Lay there.  Wait.  Watch  as I lay things out.  Flogger. Crop. Plug. More.  As I anticipate which pain, and where I will punish you with tonight.  As I anticipate what tender places I will penetrate, with what and how long,  and how hard.  Watch. See my smile.  See my shaft rise,  hard as stone.  Know,  you are mine,  helpless before my desire. 

Formerly “The Other Poems” with 12,000+ readers and correspondents until without warning Tumblr decided I was no longer worthy of web space..

Below is my first book of poems from the original "Other Poems" blog. You can get it on Amazon on Kindle and Paperback.

If you have any of my poems from the original blog on your blog, let me know so I can repost it here. If you like a poem, please repost it so I can find my friends from the last blog. The worst thing about being Tumblr Erased is the loss of connection.

==================

My corset blog was also erased by Tumblr. I have rebirthed that one too. You can find it here: https://www.tumblr.com/corsetsandkinks4

I have not rebirthed my "The Other Words" blog, which had prose, memoirs and sexual topics worth a comment or two. If you are interested in that one coming back, drop me a private message and if enough people want it, I may start it up again.

==================

I love conversation, but I am in a wonderful relationship, so no come ons. You would not have a chance no matter who you are.

I love it when I find a poem from my deleted blog that I can repost to my new on. In this case the poem found me. A Reader from London refound me and shared two. Thank you!

Once Again

And afterwards, you are spent, your legs draped over the furniture, the flush in your cheeks, the look of amazement that once again you have been moved a little more beyond, forced by permission, and later by desire to become, once again, something new.

Not Just Lust

You wipe the last drop of another man's cum, the fourth tonight, your lips uncertain, knowing I have watched each one take their pleasure with you, knowing I have seen your own pleasure with perfect strangers. Your eyes too, uncertain whether I will still want you, whether I feel the same as I felt a few hours ago, just as in love, just as passionate, the kind of passion we have always had, built on more than lust for your body, built on knowledge of who you are, needs, flaws, and glorious imperfections and even this, the dream finally fulfilled as I watch. You look up, waiting, and then, seeing.

No, my love. Nothing has changed as I wrap my fingers in your head and guide your puffy tender lips to my swollen shaft, eager to feel what they did not. Not just lust, love.

Hi, send me a private message

Reach out any time.

After

After.

After. After it all. After the rough filling. The bruising of your softest tissues. The marks. The taking of more than your body. After one more orgasm than you believed possible. After you are left breathless and limp. Spent. After all that, still... the tiniest of smiles.

The Only Thing I Measure

Forget all they told you. The only thing I measure is how much I love you, how long, and how.

Another of my poems from my banished blog. I love finding these!

Timeless Night

A little laughter. A little conversation. A bit of flirting. The gentlest of foreplay. Time. Or perhaps timelessness. Paying no attention to it, only each other, with an intensity that is gradual, like crabs in a pot, the heat rising slowly, the dance growing, more and more frantic, the heat suddenly all, passion, and more, life turned to a desperation for each other, for penetration, need, until finally, the little death in a cry and overwhelming. Gasps for breath. until it begins again. A little laughter in our timeless night.

From behind

It was the first time we met.

You were only a few steps ahead of me

When I caught you in your lie.

“I used to be a dancer.” you had told me.

“But that was a long time ago.”

Oh no, I thought as I watched the sway of your hips,

The perfect, provocative movement,

Not meant for show, but recognized,

Appreciated. Wanted. Oh yes, wanted

More than you knew then, and more,

Much more now that I have seen how you dance

On the edge of orgasm. You are a dancer still,

And always will be. You can’t help it,

Just as I can’t help thinking, even apart,

How many ways I want your and your dancer’s ass.

It never ends.

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

Thank you!