Saturday, 23 February 2013

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.

Wednesday, 20 February 2013

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.

Monday, 18 February 2013


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.

Thursday, 14 February 2013

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.

Tuesday, 12 February 2013

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.

Friday, 8 February 2013

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.