Stripes

She knew she was often bad,

knew too that he would

never harm her, so sometimes

she would kneel in the sun and

imagine what his

stripes would feel like across

her bare back.

 

(Image used by kind permission of Holden-and-Camille.com to whom I am most grateful and you should go visit. The poem is my imagination and is not a reflection of their lifestyle)

As he left her

We met awkwardly in the

narrow hallway between the

bedrooms, two naked men unsure

how to greet, his dick still dripping, mine

ringed with the red lipstick

reapplied by his wife to

wake me up.

“Breakfast! Half an hour?”

“Great!” With a nod we parted to

reclaim our wives, and

pushing open our bedroom door,

pushing through the scent of recent sex,

I found her as he left her,

replete and wet.

 

(Image used by kind permission of Holden-and-Camille.com to whom I am most grateful and you should go visit. The poem is my imagination and is not a reflection of their lifestyle)