Saturday 25 March 2017

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)

Sunday 19 March 2017

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)