You were asleep, laying face down on top of the tangled bed clothes. A Harvest moon hung low in the sky, peeking through the window shades and stretching its golden fingers of light up the length of your glorious, nude body. The moment hung in the salty, humid air, like a promise of what was yet to come.
Category: Sex
All I Want for X Mas | Poems that Suck
Dear Santa, All I want for Christmas is The Collected Works of Charles Bukowski, A Jesus Christ Superstar tank top (preferably in Medium) and a guy that will let me fuck him up the ass. (also, preferably in Medium)
Ain’t That Somethin’ | Poems that Suck
When I was 19 I had this boyfriend and he was a little strange; a little too in to women's silky panties, a little too intellectual. ya dig? Anyway, this one time when we were fucking, he jumped up on my chest and swung his little ass around and wanted me to blow him from the back. Now, I've seen and done a lot of weird and kinky shit since then but, you never forget the first time you see the back of someone's ball bag. Magnificent.
To Swallow the Sun | Poems that Suck
Your long, thin finger crept like a spider up my inner thigh. "Stop," I hissed through my teeth; a warning. "No one's looking, no one cares." and you continued your journey up the pale length of my skin. The pads of your fingertips reached their intended destination and I sighed with the delicious feel of them, as I gazed, heavy lidded, at the sea, head tilted back, as if I were swallowing the sun.
The Unexpected | Poems that Suck
I was gazing out of the window when I felt a soft touch on my shoulder, as gentle as a whisper. When I turned to look, I saw your head hovering over my skin. The tenderness of that kiss shocked me profoundly, as if you had touched some secret part of my being. I blushed deeply at the obscenity of it.
Paris | Poems that Suck
I was in Paris, once,
just a few days.
I didn’t do all the
touristy shit;
the Arc du Triomph,
the Eiffel Tower,
the Louvre.
–
Instead, I went down
to Pigalle, where the
streets are a litany
of porno shops.
I bought myself
a vibrator
and
some lube.
–
Then went back to
my closet of
an apartment
and had a
good fuck
on the
lice
ridden
bed.
Closer | Poems that Suck
Close was never close enough. Even if I could hear you in my head, visit you in my dreams, feel you buried deep inside me. It was never enough. Maybe if I could have peeled back the fragile layers of your skin, cracked open your ribs and found some comfortable place between your lungs and spleen to burrow into, I would've been satisfied.
Passion Fruit | Poems that Suck
We bit into the tender,
pink flesh
of some exotic fruit.
Its thin, sweet juice dripping
from our
lips, and I wondered
what it would be like
if he
bit into me like that.
A Triptych: The Final | Poems that Suck
Lean back,”
he urged me,
cradling me
like a child
in the deep,
green, sea.
I obliged,
pushing my
hips heavenward,
and letting my
head sink into
the abyss.
“You’re so fucking beautiful,”
and for a moment,
I felt weightless
believing in my
own beauty
for the
first
time.
A Triptych: Part II | Poems that Suck
Curvy," he said as he ran his thumbnail along the contour of my hip. "I am," I said defensively, maybe even a little too loudly. "It's lovely. Lovely," he sighed.