Today is a filthy poetry day, because I couldn’t concentrate to writing yesterday – I was filled with anticipation for the evening’s sex date, which itself was filled with twisted adventures. It was an interlude, with cocks, and it was delightful. And now I really need to go and wash my hair!
Tell me to get on my knees –
No, push me down.
Sometimes, it’s only when I have no choice
That I feel I won’t breakdown.
An unhealthy coping mechanism,
To shake my depressive mood?
Or maybe it’s a guilty pleasure
A much-needed interlude.
I taste pre-come on my lips
Where later I’ll taste piss.
A dozen filthy, new adventures
Each ending sweetly with a kiss.
Not that the kisses are sweet or gentle –
And I wouldn’t want them to be,
They’re a prelude to me on my knees,
Cock in my mouth, me feeling free.
No thoughts or doubts or worries,
He decides how much I’ll take.
Hands tight in my hair, grip firm on my neck:
Please leave bruises, please make me ache.
I used to climb mountains
When I needed to clear my head.
Now I find peace kneeling at his feet –
It’s an interlude with cock instead.