lush, hanging
like ripe fruit,
skin smooth —
caramel brown,
like the valley between;
scarred, spotted,
veins glowing faintly
beneath the skin,
heavy, and warm,
ready to receive
the adoration
of your lips,
your tongue…
your cum.


Copyright 2014


On days
when snow
like cooling blanket white
spreads thick its chill embrace,
I most enjoy the warm, entwining gold
of firelight, blood red of heated fingers
on rounded, pinkened cheeks…
fire and ice, a color-ridden contrast
of vital, vivid hues,
winter, passion-tinged.


Copyright 2012


Everything about this grayscale piano —
from its keys like uneven teeth,
in need of more than brushing
to remove the dust and decay
that years of mistreatment
and neglect have caused —
to the space it occupies,
all bricks and mortar, rough-hewn,
cold and under-used,
bespeak a painful loss.

No music warms the cold places
in that stony room.
No sharps and flats swell round
the empty spaces,
nor wisps of airy tunes
disturb the curled leaves
of the abandoned sheets.
A paradox on legs,
the ancient instrument seems
a statement of fragility and force.

Fortissimo, pianissimo…
no sounds at all
defy the rigid quiet,
or mar the weathered stillness
of this antique…
disregarded, disrespected,
a hushed requiem for a life
lived far too long,
or else too soon discarded…
its death an unvoiced crescendo.


Copyright 2014


You are more than even I,
Despite my advanced years,
Know how to tame.

You are words of passion
Whispered into ears
That are not mine.
Words filled with images
That stoke a tender fire
In my heart,
And wishes that they
Were meant for me.

You are thoughts of pleasure
Written into elegant lines
For other lovers.
Thoughts brimming with desires
That match the trembling needs
I hide away,
Afraid that they
Will never be fulfilled.

You are the beginning
Of every poem
That I write,
And the ending
Of every story,
Where the lucky girl
Gets the lucky boy,
And love is more than fantasy.

You are more than even I,
Despite my vivid dreams,
Know how to win.


Copyright 2015

“Lover”, 2 and 3

For Part 1 go here


He was right, of course.  Shower sex was better than she had thought, and certainly not like that one failed chocolate syrup experiment of her marriage that had left her feeling slightly sticky, and wholly unaroused.  “It’s the thought that counts” had been a lame excuse for a sad seduction.  But not this time.  She had never known there was more than one use for a showerhead, or that she could be wet while she was wet.  She had never known giving head while trying to breathe through the water cascading over her face could be so exotic…and it hadn’t hurt that she couldn’t smell the usual musk that was a total turn-off for her.  Nor had it hurt that he had roared when she made him cum hard, though she did not swallow, and he didn’t seem to care.

She loved the way he jetted, and didn’t mind the sperm on her breasts.  She could feel the power of his orgasm in the force with which the jets of semen hit her skin, and she felt powerful.  Why that was a turn-on, she couldn’t say, but the wild taking up against the shower wall, her legs wrapped around him, his hips shoving her hard against the wall as his cock took full possession of her channel, was the hottest thing she had ever experienced with anyone…and her gone fifty already!

Now, as she lay on his back porch in a leather recliner soaking in the sun, she wondered what he saw in her.  She was nothing exciting to look at.  True, her face wasn’t ugly, her skin was smooth, she had a pleasant smile, but none of those things said “siren’, or ‘seductress’.  None of them said “sex kitten”.  None said “fuckable lady lover”.  She was supremely ordinary, with a large side of body fat thrown in at the most embarrassingly noticeable spots.  And still, as just a moment ago, he looked at her and his eyes smoldered.  Still, he could not seem to walk by her without stopping to touch her, to kiss her, to whisper something sweet in her ears.

“What’s my beautiful thinking about so earnestly?”

His voice broke into her musings.  He was standing before her, at the foot of the recliner, a tray in his hand.  He had called her that since almost the beginning of their acquaintance, and she had once asked him if that was to be his nickname for her.  The look he gave her, coupled with his mysterious smile, had been her only answer.  When she asked him why, he said,

“I say what I see.”

And that had been that.

She brought her attention back to his question.  “Nothing,” she answered.  She wouldn’t begin to know how to explain her confusion about his obvious attraction to her, nor why she seemed to need an explanation, instead of being able to accept  and enjoy it.

He set the tray down on the table next to her, and sat on the edge of the recliner.  His legs and arms and torso were bare, and her body stirred at the sight of his body.  He was golden and glowing, and the look in his eyes as he leaned over her told her that if she planned to leave, as she still did, she would need to do so as soon as possible.  He made her forget herself, forget where she was, forget who she was.  She couldn’t afford to forget.  Life gave out no gifts to someone like her, and she had already paid the price once, since her divorce, for believing a lie.  She wouldn’t let that happen ever again.

“If you keep lying to me, I shall have to punish you,” he whispered against her lips, before taking them to stop her from responding.  He rubbed his own over them, and when she opened her mouth to chide him, he swept into it, uninvited but desired, and suckled her tongue.  She couldn’t hold back the moan that floated free, nor keep her hands quiet at her side.  How was she supposed to break free of his spell if she couldn’t even stop herself from returning his kisses, as she was doing now with unabashed fervor?  She clenched her hands into fists at her side to stop herself from pulling him closer.  This was a madness she could not keep repeating.  She was meant to learn from her mistakes, not repeat them.  The second time isn’t a mistake any longer, and to let him go any further would make this her third time at the starter’s gate.

“Put your arms around me, beautiful.  Show me how much you want me.”

His words, spoken hoarsely into her mouth, were like a switch, lighting her up from the inside.  Her mind said she should resist, protect herself, back away before her heart was broken again.  But her body had other ideas.  It wanted to open itself to him, to let him in, to swallow him whole and never let him free.  She raised her hands and cupped his tanned face, watching as his dark eyes glittered.  He held her gaze, and kissed her again, drawing her closer to his hard body, caressing her nipples through the t-shirt he had given her after their shower.

“Do you want lunch now, or shall we have dessert first?”  The smile on his face was seductive, the look in his eyes sinful as he stroked her.

“I told you I had to leave,” she whispered, unable to raise her voice to normal pitch.

“Stay the weekend,” he coaxed, teasing her flesh with trembling fingers. “There’s no one at home who needs your attention.  And this is a long weekend, so I’m off an extra day.”

He slid his fingers down, snaking them beneath the legline of her panties under the t-shirt  “Stay with me,” he urged her, teasing her flesh as he kissed her.  She hissed, and opened her legs, which he noticed at once.

“Dessert first, then,” he concluded, and pushed her back against the seat.


She was dozing again, and he lay next to her, propped up on one elbow, watching her sleep. Next to making love to her — and making her cum, and watching her fall apart, and listening to her call his name — next to all that, watching her sleep was fast becoming one of his favorite activities. Her breasts, covered by his t-shirt, teased his eyes. He thought again about the scar that marred its surface and made a dent in the top when she was upright. He wouldn’t worry about it, and he wouldn’t let her worry, either. Every biopsy meant she was being carefully watched, and every negative result meant he could keep her with him longer.

She snuffled and closed her mouth, snuggling her cheek against her palm. Her round thighs and long legs turned him on, reminding him of the way they wrapped around him, pulling him into her core when they made love.  She was strong, and passionate, and he wanted her all the time.  Her ankles were still slightly swollen; she hadn’t had enough water today, but he’d fix that. For now, he watched her turn onto her back, and inhaled deeply when the hem of his shirt rode up, exposing her partially shaven pussy. He had stolen her panties from her earlier, once she’d had her third orgasm and had promised that she would stay the weekend. Her panties were his insurance that she wouldn’t run out on him. Now the sight of that neat landing strip on her pouty lower lips had him hardening in his shorts all over again.

He reached out and let his trembling fingers hover over the triangle of temptation. At the last second, he withdrew. If he touched her there like that now, they’d be caught in flagrante delicto when his brother and sister-in-law showed up ahead of the rest of the family to get the cooking going.Instead of ravishing her the way his randy hormones were pushing him to do, he shook her gently to wake her up.

“Tom will be here with Sandy in a little while. You need to get dressed. And I need to start getting things ready for the barbecue.”

He watched her face flush when she reached down and remembered that she was bare there when her fingers glanced off the soft skin of her pussy.

“You’re beautiful, you know that, right?”

“Thank you, Ben.”

Her smile made his heart ache. He knew she still had a hard time believing him. But he had more than words and orgasms up his sleeve. He’d show that her she was the most beautiful woman in the world to him. He’d show that her the age difference didn’t matter. He’d show her that his heart was hers forever, no matter what. His unabating desire to kiss her and be inside her were just two proofs of his feelings.

“Just remember I stopped playing rounders when I was a teenager. I’ll be fifty-one next birthday.”

“Age is just a number, Abby, and baseball isn’t rounders.” He joined in her laughter, and reached over to kiss her gently. “Go on. I left some clothes for you in my room.”

By the time Tom and Gina arrived, she was decked out in a pair of shorts, complete with underwear, and a baseball jersey, her breasts once again bound by her bra. She looked cute, and he gave in to the need to kiss the smile right off her plump lips. His arms wrapped tightly round her, and his lips devoured hers. He felt her lean into him, draping her arms around his neck. He pushed his hardening body into hers, and groaned when she pushed back. The sound of a car on his gravel drive had him releasing her.

“Hold that thought, baby.”

He bussed her lips again and went to meet his family. He could feel her eyes on him all afternoon, as he and his big brother bandied words, and flipped burgers, and grilled steaks and chicken. And while they waited for the rest of the family to come, he gave her some batting practice. Gina was the coach of her school’s softball team, and his brother had been in the minor leagues. He didn’t want to embarrass her, but as he helped her find the right grip on the bat, and fix her stance, he felt her surprise that she was handy with a bat, and had a pretty powerful left swing.

“Your girlfriend’s been having you on, Ben,” Tom said, when they finally stopped to take a rest.

She froze, and Ben held his breath. She was his girlfriend. She was his. But she needed to know it, just as he and Tom did. Just as everyone would, as soon as they saw him with her. She smiled at Tom, her eyes finding his after a moment. He smiled back, letting his feelings show in his eyes.

“Seems like you may be right, Tom,” he agreed, going to her, and pulling her into his arms. “What do you think I ought to do to punish her?”

He winked at her as he spoke, and his brother laughed. “We’ll think of something by the end of dinner.”

“That we will,” he whispered against her lips, kissing her full on the lips before God and his brother. When she relaxed and opened her mouth to him, he growled, and dove in to taste her, kissing her deeply and forgetting he had an audience till Tom’s voice broke the spell.

“Get a room, bro!”

Her blush made him smile, and the beauty of her own shy smile warmed him as he introduced her to his parents, his younger sisters and their families, and his grandmother, who took her aside as drinks were being served.  He tried to get close enough to hear what she said, but his mother intercepted him.

“She’s old enough to take care of herself, Benjamin.”

His mother only used his full name when she had something to say that he might not like.  His hackles rose, thinking she was about to lecture him.

“Look, Ma, I don’t think…”

“No, you don’t.  You lead in with your heart, as you’ve done since you were a boy.”  She reached up to smooth a hand over his cheek.  “It’s plain to see how you feel about Abby, Ben.  She’s the only one who doesn’t see it.  And you’ve got your work cut out for you, because she thinks she’s too old for you.”

Ben stared at her.  “Who are you, and what have you done with my mother?”

She reached up and kissed him with a small smile on her lips.  “Go get your girl, sweetie.”

Ben smiled and hugged his mother.  “I think I’ll do that, Ma.”

The game was wildly entertaining, and Abby was a delight to watch as she forgot to be nervous and shy, hit the ball and ran, screaming and jumping around like a kid when she made a home run.  When he went to hug her, along with everyone else, she wrapped her arms around him and laughed.

“Hmmm…do I have to keep planning baseball games to get you out of your shell, baby?”

She chuckled and leaned close to his ear.  “And maybe add a few beers.”

Her lips touched his earlobe, and they both froze.  Suddenly, they were the only two people in his backyard.  The only two people in the world.  His need for her, never far from the surface, became the most important thing as he took her lips and sent his tongue into her mouth, not waiting for her permission.  He couldn’t wait any longer, and he was glad she didn’t try to resist.  But she ended it far too quickly, whispering as she moved away,

“Hold that thought, baby.”

He burst into delighted laughter as she walked away innocently.  He couldn’t wait till he had her alone again.  He’d show her…


Copyright 2015

Pretty Lies

Those love song lyrics —
“Never, my love”,
A promise of forever
Impossible to keep,
But nectar for the heart.

“Tell him I miss him
More each day” —
A misremembered record
Of the fractured day,
Hopeful, if improbable.

“You’re the best thing
That ever happened to me.”
The worst of all,
Superlative of hope,
Destitute at last.

“Together, that’s how it must be,
To live without you
Would only be heartbreak for me.”
Such absolutes in feeling
Tend to lose their force in fact.

This one is best…
“Walk on by, don’t stop!”
No promises made,
No poor hope painfully extracted
From the rich soil of dreams.


Copyright 2015

Alt Sex

If I could,
I’d hook you with my words,
Baited with delicious flirting
And the urgency of desire.
Once you’re caught,
I’d reel you in
With word pictures to make you catch fire
And explode without my touch.
While you’re still off balance,
And swaying with a helpless, aching need,
I’d unravel you with lustful words
Of savage greed.


Copyright 2014

How to write a eulogy

How does one write a eulogy?  I’ve thought of this question before, but have never really done much more than think.  But today, I must do more.  My Aunt Gigi died yesterday, aged 83.  She suffered from cancer in the last few years of her life, but the last time I saw her, in August, the only evidence of the affliction was her difficulty standing, and the hesitancy with which she walked on her own.  Yes, she had also lost a lot of weight, but I never saw that as a sign of anything.  It was her birthday celebration, and she was animated, happy, determined to enjoy her family and friends.

The party was held outdoors, and she celebrated with her younger sister (my Aunt Pat), whose birthday is three weeks before hers.  I loved to see her smile, to listen to her sass, to watch her interact with her grandchildren.  But as I contemplate what I want to say about my aunt, I am struck by how little I know about her.  I know her names, the first of which I love…Hannah — it’s a beautiful, elegant name. (The second, Gloria, is the one from which I presume the diminutive by which she is known to family and friends is derived.)

My aunt was a Hannah.  She was elegant, and very proper.  Old school, today’s young folk would call her.  She was all about the proper way to speak, the proper way for gentlemen and ladies to comport themselves, the right way to address one’s elders, the proper way to show respect.  She was a lady of decorum, and I never felt completely comfortable around her unless I was decorous, too.  One must needs mind one’s manners when in Aunt Gigi’s company.

I know other superficial things about her, as well as her names. I know when she was born, where she was born, who her parents were (my grandparents, of course), whom she married, how many children she was blessed to bring into the world.  But we never spent much time together, my aunt and I, but I knew she loved her family, which included my mother, her older sister.  I knew she wanted what was best for all of us — her children, her husband, until the day he died, her sisters, her nieces and nephews and grandchildren.  I knew that often times she would insist upon having things done her way, sometimes to our chagrin, but I also knew she meant no harm by it.  She was a nurturer, and that was her way.  Who am I to judge the way she showed her love?

I know she will be missed by us all.  Despite the challenges that came with her increasing frailty, in her last days, we have much to remember her for, much to be thankful to her for, much to celebrate.  Hers was a life well lived, and now, at last, she rests in peace.

I think I just wrote her eulogy…it doesn’t follow the usual rules, and I suppose I will need to add in things about her life that are expected to be included in a traditional eulogy.  But this reads like a thoughtful, personal expression of affection and knowledge from her family, the last words for a life lived fully, unapologetically, with elegance and propriety.  A fitting salute to a grand dame.


Copyright 2015

Thoughts of you, like ghosts,
Drift in and out, distant, cold,
Like you’ve become.
I knew this is how
It would be. Still, hurt rehearsed,
Old wounds re-exposed.


Copyright 2015

Sweet Dreams

The rain is lashing the window panes, washing away every suggestion of dirt from them, spreading sheets of blurring water across them. The thunder of the deluge roars from the roof, echoing around the room, sounding a contralto note to the bass voicings of the thunder in the clouds.

I hold you to me tightly, at once thrilled and scared by the storm. You wrap your arms around me, and open your legs so I can snuggle between them. Storms invariably bring out the wild woman in me, and you never fail to give me what I need each time.

I shiver in anticipation of the pleasure we will drown in together.

“You’re shivering,” you whisper in my ear, letting the warmth of your breath caress my lobe, and slip down the column of my neck.  “Shall I warm you?”

I smile, hoping it is as sensual as I am feeling.  “Can you?” I ask, entering into the spirit of the game.

Your answering smile is knowing, teasing, and lustful all at once.  “I can do whatever you can imagine, and a whole lot more!”
Your boast tickles me, and I chuckle, a low, delighted sound, followed almost immediately by a moan of pleasure as you take my mouth in a hungry kiss.  The room is silent as we taste each other, and savor the flavor of our growing passion.  I can still taste a hint of the drink you had just before we repaired to bed, chasing each other like children up the stairs as the storm hit, stripping and diving beneath the blankets amidst giggles and chuckles.

“Are you as hungry as I am?” you ask me, nibbling your way down my neck, nipping and soothing my skin as you go.  A flash of lightning illumines your face as I arch under your suddenly marauding fingers, which have wound their way down to my breasts.  You pinch me, enough to make the pleasure peak with a bite of pain, and I gasp, wondering, as I do every time, why I am suddenly wet and needier than I was a minute ago.

“You like that, baby?” Not waiting for a reply, because you seem to know that I can’t speak past the cotton in my throat, you tweak me again, twisting a nipple between your thumb and forefinger, making me cry out in an anguish of ecstasy.  How can you make sharp pain so unbearably pleasurable?  Even as the thought swirls around in my dazed brain, you lower your mouth to an aching breast and suckle me like a newborn.

“Shit, Abe!” I exclaim, and hear your chuckle as you delight in my deteriorating language.  You know I will grow increasingly loose about the lips, and dirty talk from me will fuel the lovemaking to come.  You switch breasts, and I cry out again, and pull you hard into my chest, wishing you could consume me whole.

The thunder rumbling overhead seems to beat in time to my racing heart as you play me like a master musician.  I am trembling and losing control of my limbs, when you shift again, and I feel your mouth where your fingers have been.  The warmth of your tongue, coupled with the invasion of three digits into my very core, pulls the juices from me, and a scream that is drowned by a loud clap of thunder overhead.

Your growls of pleasure echo the rumbling retreat of the crashing clouds, and when you swing me over to straddle you, my breath is flying from my parted lips, my heart beating double time, and my legs trembling with my release.  I raise my hips and grasp your steel-hard cock, guiding you into me, whimpering as you fill me.

“Fuck, Abe, you feel so good!” I whisper into your ear before I straighten my back and begin to ride.  You fondle my breasts, squeezing and plumping and pinching them, adding to the sensations already rocking me to my core.  My legs are tired, but I cannot stop.  I can feel a second orgasm building, seeming to be gathering its force everywhere on my body.

I am so hot, I am burning up, as though I have a fever.  Your harsh breathing tells me you are as caught up as I am in our lovemaking.  Your fingers dig into my hips to the bone it feels like, but the pain is nothing to the intensity of the pleasure that has me keening like a bird on the wing.

“Oh, fuck!  Oh God!  Shit!”  I am incoherent, and your groans and grunts sound a counterpoint to my sensual melody.  I don’t want this feeling to end, but I need to come more than I need to breathe.  I ride you harder, faster, taking you deeper into my body.

“Christ, Kay, you’re killing me!” you exclaim, thrusting up into the heart of me furiously, matching my downward strokes.
I cannot answer, and when you flip me so you can ride, I am almost insensible with need.  You lower you head to kiss me, wrapping your arms around me and deep fucking me, pushing me past every plateau of sensation till all I can feel is you.

“Ready to come, baby?” you ask hoarsely.

I cannot answer you.  There are no words to say what I want, so I nod, and you take my mouth again in a long, ravenous kiss, which we break off by mutual consent when the second wave hits and we are both bowled over.  Your groans fill my ears as you empty yourself inside me, and I cry out your name as you strike against my g-spot.  Something inside me loosens, and I am squirting and crying and shaking. I can feel your arms trembling with me, and we are powerless before the spasms of passion, before our bodies grow quiet at last.

My arms, which I had wrapped tightly around you, fall lifelessly to the sheets, as do my legs, and I feel the delicious weight of your body settle against mine.  We are both breathing hard, trying to catch our breath, and you move to lie beside me, draping your arm over my chest.  I turn so that my back is to your front, and hug your arm to me, smiling drowsily, ready for sleep.  I can hear the smile in your voice when you say, right next to my ear,

“Sweet dreams, baby!”

Copyright 2013

Madstoffa's crunchy house!

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