Monday, 30 January 2012

You Haunt Me

You haunt me even when you’re
not there as I can’t wash
while the wonderful
smell of you lingers on my
fingers, while there might still be a
ghost of our coupling somewhere on my
body, somewhere in my

One-sided Conversation

John, what are you doing up here?
Go downstairs now before someone sees you.
Stop it, my family are here!
I’ve got to get this bed ready for Gramps.
Don’t point that thing at me!
My husband could come up, my kids...
John, stop it now......
God, don’t break my kneecaps!
At least close the door.....
Please be quick.....

Jeez, you always come so much!
Be quiet going down, ok? I
need to brush my teeth and if you
got any in my hair I
swear I’ll kill you! Couldn’t you
wait until tomorrow?

Monday, 23 January 2012

Cliff Edge

I had no idea there was a cliff edge
nor that I was near it: it was just a
great night with me and Hub and Mike
laughing, eating, drinking, dancing and the
third bottle just about empty when my
husband kissed me and I moaned, I
remember, closed my eyes, felt
different lips, a new tongue, a new
heat in my centre, felt two men hold me up on their
hardness, felt soft and strong and
limber and pliant and dizzy as I
stepped off the cliff-edge I never imagined
existed in my living room.

PTA Meeting

The agenda was dry but she was
determined to pay attention despite the
sulphurous looks from the man opposite
daring her to come to his no-doubt
scruffy work-van where he would
strip off her finery, make her feel his
work-stained jeans against her soft flesh as he made her
bend over, give it up, allow his
gnarled penis access to her bare pussy
--why was it wet?—leaving the
indent of his sharp zip and a
faint smear of motor oil on her
pale ass.

Sunday, 15 January 2012


Her long dark hair was wound up and
pierced by three pens, one of which she
gracefully plucked to mark the cups with
customers’ finickity commands whilst I
imagined her naked, commanded, her hair
falling like black snow on her
white shoulders as I drew each pen and wrote
something obscene across her
spotless body.

Tuesday, 10 January 2012

Tally Ho!

Three or four times a year but
always when he least expected he would
arrive home on a Friday night to find his
children happily playing with the babysitter, a
bottle of champagne open by the bed on which
certain clothes were laid out which
immediately set fire to his belly and his
beautiful naked wife, newly shaved, her
eyes sparkling with adventure, reaching on
tiptoe to kiss him, whispering
“My hunting clothes are ready. Shall we
go hunting, my love?” and she knew his answer from the
swelling against her and the heat of his kiss on the
mouth that would soon taste of
other men’s cocks.