Wine with Water

Once or twice, the wondrous

gush of her orgasm would be darker,

hotter, my probing penis having

hastened her flow, the

egg that got away smearing its

red yolk onto my groin, the sheets, her

rouging cheeks, as if I would mind her

fertility, her womanhood, as if I

wouldn’t drink a little

wine with her water and

be no worse for it.

Leopard II

The leopard pads about the house

stark naked, proud of her

long freckled body, of her

tousled hair, the smeared mascara, the

stickiness of her face, of the

collar tight about her neck and the

leash lying coiled on her pillow, beside the

man for whom she has

willingly sheathed her claws, the

thought of which makes her

pussy weep anew as she

sadly gathers her strewn clothing and

prepares to go back.

Leopard

Her long freckled body rode him like a

maddened leopard mauling prey, her

pale fingernails digging into his chest as she

drove herself inexorably to His orgasm,

the one he’d  promised her when she gave him the

handle of her leash as she knelt, naked and

thickly collared in her suburban hallway

surrounded by smiling family faces.

What She Found in Wal-Mart

The collar is thick, designed

at least for a Great Dane, the

chain heavy enough to restrain a

large beast but instead it

decorates the slender throat of a

beautiful woman, kneeling,

offering the leather handle, her

mouth open, perfectly red and

begging to be fed.

Blue-Stocking Slut

Her peroration on Johnson, Hume and

Austen had the audience in the

palm of her hand where,

ten minutes later, in a

carefully chosen Disabled Toilet, she

held my balls as she sucked me, the

fingers of her other hand frantically

frigging her startlingly bare slit so

naked under the respectable dress in which

she’d lectured about Austen and

Hume and Johnson.

For J, in remembrance

First Boyfriend

Her first boyfriend was her hairbrush, or

at least its handle, the shape of which

held some sort of penile promise, and no

potential embarrassment from a

boy at the other end.

Fallen Angel

Pet’s room smelt of pussy

so I knew she’d played with herself

all day while I worked and now

slept, surrounded by an 

impressive array of toys suitable for

both orifices, her body

half-hidden amidst the

tousled sheets, sated yet

insatiable, waiting to be

woken for more like a

precious pink Peri.