Untitled By Design

Hurts to be ignored
By the very people whom
You want to love you.

Hurts even harder
To recognize you’re really


Copyright 2015

Teasing the Spring

(The poem I refer to is Henry Reed’s “Naming of Parts”, which is a poem about war and young men, but which has a section about the young soldier’s mind on sex. Hence my riff! Sorry I’m such an English teacher! :P)

The way the temperature
Dips and sways,
Like a drunken ballet dancer,
Reminds me of the movement
Of that practiced hand
In Henry Reed’s poem,
Which learned to ease the spring,
While all the birds and bees
Went about in seasonal delirium.
The young gunner
Lost his concentration
As Nature teased his senses.
“Easing the Spring”, Reed called it.
Spring is like that,
Teasing us with
Warm and cool, seducing us
Into the heat of summer.

Copyright 2014

The Way He Chooses

“So” his thumb slid under her welling eyes and swept the tears away in a tender show of affection, “what do you want me to do?”

For the first time since she had known him, she relaxed completely, and told him the whole truth.

“I want you to choose again,” she said, and smiled through her tears.

(from “The-Way-She-Kneels/”.  This is the first sequel.)

He inhaled deeply.  Everything male surged in him, raising his core temperature, as though she had touched him intimately.  Her hands still circled his hips, and her mouth was still close enough to do bad things to him, if he wanted.  And he wanted…so desperately it shocked him.  But now that he had begun this seductive give and take, he wanted to ease her into things she would not normally do for him, like sucking him off.  He wanted her to keep wanting to please him because it pleased her.  If this was how their relationship would play out, he was willing to go the distance.  She was worth it to him.  She was worth everything to him.

He watched her waiting, a last tear sliding down her cheek, her lips trembling slightly.  He knew she was afraid he would hurt her, either by word or deed.  He was determined to show her how wrong she was, because he knew he would never enjoy anything at all with her if he frightened her away.

“Stand up,” he told her quietly, reining in his emotions.  He waited till she stood before him, and then he said, standing up himself, “Undress me.  Start at my feet.”

She knelt again, and he smiled.  She seemed to have missed the irony of her position, but he knew she would figure it out eventually.  So when she looked up, he wasn’t surprised to hear her say, her voice sharp,

“Don’t think I’ve missed what you’ve done here!”

He chuckled, and she stared at him for a moment before letting a small smile quirk her lips.

“I’ll let you get away with it…this time.  Just don’t think you can sneak anything by me.”

She removed his shoes and socks, and then, after smoothing her fingers over his arches, and without rising from her knees, she began to undo his belt buckle.  Her touch was gentle, but he found he had to lock his knees to hide his intense reaction to it.  He was willing to give and take, but he wasn’t yet ready to share the depth of his feelings or the impact she had on him.  She opened the belt, and unbuttoned his fly.

The air around them snapped with sexual energy as she pulled his zipper down and exposed the black boxers he wore.  She paused, and he watched her stare at the thick evidence of his arousal tenting the front of his underwear.  He jerked it, startling her, and she licked her lips.  He stifled the groan that rose in his throat at the sight of her tongue.  She pulled the pants down his legs, and tapping on his feet, instructed him to lift up so she could remove them.

When she returned to his boxers, still on her knees, he waited to see what she would do.  She rubbed her palms on her thighs, as though they were damp, and as she reached for the sides of the garment, his cock swelled, as he imagined her tongue licking the head, sucking his length into her mouth.  As if she knew what he was thinking, she licked her lips again, and the head peeped over the waistband, presenting her with the core of his need.

She swallowed so loudly he heard it, and a surge of triumph swept through him.  He tightened his leg muscles, wondering wryly how he was going to manage when she actually touched him, if he was so undone by her looks alone.  She drew the garment slowly down his legs, her fingers touching him with featherlight arousal, and he wondered when she had wrested control from him.  He shivered as she pulled it down his legs, and when she tapped his feet, he stepped out of them, too, and prayed he could continue to withstand her breath on his bare skin.

When she stood up, he inhaled deeply, relieved that he could still stand on his own.  She reached for the buttons on his shirt, and when she leaned in to draw it off his shoulders, her lips brushed his skin.  They both gasped.  She went to pull away, but he stopped her.

“Don’t move,” he ordered her.  “Finish what you’re doing.”

She obeyed him wordlessly, and when the shirt was on the floor, he finally touched her, holding her face in his hands, kissing her chastely on the forehead, when he really wanted to ravage her mouth.

“How was that?” he wondered.  “Did you like it?  Did it turn you on?”  When she hesitated, he pushed a command into his voice.  “Answer me!  And don’t lie.”

“It was fine,” she whispered, her eyes lowered.

“I didn’t hear you,” he said, though he had heard every word.  He wanted her to let go completely, to be honest with herself, and with him.

She cleared her throat and raised her voice.  “It was fine.”  She kept her eyes on his chin.

“That’s not all I asked,” he said.  “Answer the rest, too.”

She looked up at him then, and tried to move her head, but he held her face immobile in his hands.  Surprisingly, she didn’t glare at him, as he expected.

“No.  Look at me and tell me how it made you feel to undress me.”

She was clearly struggling with this command, but finally she looked him in the eyes and said, “It turned me on.”  Her cheeks were pink with embarrassed shyness, but she held his gaze.  He could almost hear her thinking that she wasn’t a coward, that she could answer any question he asked.

He let her face go, and took her hand in his.  “That wasn’t so hard, now was it?”  Without waiting for an answer, he placed it on his twitching cock.  “I’m going to undress you now,” he informed her, tightening his muscles.  “And you’re going to make it worth my while.  Stroke me.  And don’t stop, no matter what I do, no matter what happens.  Are we clear?”

“Yes.”  Her whisper this time was hoarse with her arousal.

“Kick your shoes off,” he said, and she did, managing not to let go of his straining erection.  Her hands were silken and deadly, winding him up to fever pitch.  He reached behind her and pulled the zipper down on her dress, pushing himself further into her hands.  They both groaned at the increased contact.  He pushed it off her shoulders, and told her to step out of it when it fell to the floor.  Kicking it aside, he tackled her bra next, glad it had a back closure so he could keep her body next to his.  He fought not to rip it from her flesh, but in no time, it had joined her dress on the floor.  He made sure she never stopped stroking his dick, instructing her to switch hands when he pulled it off.

“Push your panties down to your knees,” he ordered her, and when she did, he used his feet to push them to her ankles.  “Step out and kick them behind you,” he said, and when she did, their bodies collided.  He hissed, and reached in, sliding his middle finger between her swollen lips, down and back up, stroking her clitoris on the way up, and she whimpered.  He could smell her arousal as he withdrew his finger, and a drop of precum pearled on the tip of his cock.  He inhaled deeply, and leaned in to whisper in her ear, his hands on her hips,

“Don’t stop.”

And then he kissed her hungrily, unwilling to wait till she chose their next move.  Whatever she decided she wanted to do next, he would do.  Somehow, he knew she would make the right choice.  Just like she had before.

“Your turn,” he told her, and smiled.


Copyright 2015

Imminent Spring

Bet you wish that now,
Instead of flooding rains, that
There would come cold air.

No snow, of course, but
Bracing, fresh, stirring spring breath
To wake up new life.

Bet you wish that spring
Meant everything important
Would blossom and grow.

No worries. It’s still
Early days yet. Time enough
To open your heart.


Copyright 2014

Scotch Bonnet

The words burn
on the page,
on her fingers,
on her tongue…
in her heart.

Their knobbled,
surfaces, smooth-skinned,
belie the fire
raging underneath.

Vibrant colors
provide a clue
to their heat
and potency —
Orange, Yellow,

They speak in tongues
of flame and passion
of things no heart
should know…
of desires unrelenting,
of lusts unabating,
of needs unyielding.

Compact or expansive,
the words burn,
irascible and piquant,
consuming their way
from her inside
flavoring her tears.


Copyright 2014


If, sir, I do not start away
From the whisper touches
Of your lips upon my cheeks,
Perhaps I can more easily admire
The fragile beauties of the early Spring —
The tiny buds that cling tenaciously
To the swelling vines and branches,
The early butterflies, the bumble bees.
But if you still insist, sir,
To tease me more with
Moist kisses on my arching neck,
Mayhap I’ll let you have your way
And give in to the mating call of Spring.


Copyright 2014


Come, taste the wine
Of my desire.
Come, feast upon my lust.
Come, ruin me
For anyone else,
Restrain me, if you must.
I am waiting
Come, and have me


Copyright 2014


Would that the need for love
Excluded want of passion’s
Searing, healing touch.

Should I choose to be
A hermit, an ascetic,
Bereft of lust’s touch?

Or might it ever be
That I will find myself at once
Sexual and holy?


Copyright 2015


I am drunk
with the heaviness
of the lost hour.
infinities of desire
passed away,
pissed away,
bled away
in the time warp
of the approaching
I am drunk
with the leadenness
of Spring.


Copyright 2015

The Way She Kneels

“Kneel before me.”

Quietly spoken words, but she knew this was a test.  He aroused and intrigued her, and they had had many conversations about his need to dominate, and her refusal to submit.  She was not a slave or a sub, not a whore or a bitch or a slut.  She was herself, and she would thank him to remember that!  And yet, his calm disposition and quiet strength attracted her.  His crooked smile and scarred face appealed to her sense of beauty.  His strong hands and big fingers excited her.  His thick thighs and muscled butt drew her heat like a magnet to his.

“Why?”  She couldn’t stop the question, or the defiant attitude.

“Because you want to,” he whispered softly, leaning in to her body, his lips to her ear.

“Wishful thinking!”  Her words held more bravado than she felt.  They hid a sudden fear that he was right.

He smiled and walked away, settling himself on the chair by the window, and waited.

She struggled with herself.  She trusted this man, she really did.  He was the first man who made her feel as though she were beautiful, despite all the physical flaws she saw and acknowledged.  He made her feel special, treasured…needed, and not just because she could satisfy his sexual desires.  He wanted her love, he craved it, and he was passionate about getting it, and giving back to her in equal measure all the passion he had stored up inside his barrel-chested body.  She knew he would never hurt her.

“Just as long as you understand I’m not doing this to be subservient to you,” she said, her voice hard, her hands shaking.  “I’m not…”

She stopped, and he looked her in the eyes.  “We both know exactly what you are, honey.  And I’m okay with it.  Are you?”  His voice was even, his tone gentle.  His eyes never left hers.

She swallowed.  When had the tables been turned on her?  She didn’t like feeling at a disadvantage with men…but he wasn’t just any man.  She refused to examine her feelings for him.  Now was not the time to lose focus.

“Of course I’m okay with it!” she snapped, irritated with herself, and more turned on than she understood how to control.  Which pissed her off even more.  And she knew what his response would be, which spiked her anger, and swelled her core with heat.  She didn’t know how to handle these opposing emotions, and it scared her.

“Then prove it,” he answered immediately.  “Kneel before me.”

He gazed into her eyes, and she gave in.  Just this one time, she would prove, to herself, and to him, that she wasn’t a coward.  And she would prove to him that she was immune to his games.  If they were to be together, it would have to be because they both wanted the same things.

She knelt before him, her arms at her back to keep her balance.  Widening his legs, he leaned forward, and said softly, his lips once again at her ear,

“Move forward between my legs, till your shoulders touch my thighs.”

She looked up at him, and saw the same enigmatic smile, the same warm eyes, the same lust…the same quiet determination.  She gritted her teeth and moved forward.  He didn’t touch her anywhere, and she stopped when her shoulders touched his thighs.  He sat forward till his crotch was directly in front of her face.

“Put your arms around me, and rest your head on my belly.”

She tried to look up again, but this time, he rested his hand lightly on the top of her head, not pressing her down, just not letting her raise it.

“No.  Don’t look at me.  Just do as I ask.”

His voice was hoarse, the way is always got when he was fighting some deep emotion.  And that sound always made her wet and achy.  He was not stopping her from looking where her eyes were, and she saw the heavy erection that tented the front of his dress pants.  And as though he knew where she was looking, his cock jerked, and her mouth was suddenly full of saliva.  She swallowed again, her face heating even though she knew he couldn’t see it.

Raising her arms, she put them around his thighs, which brought her face in contact with his lower belly, and her chin in touch with his twitching rod.  She could smell the musk of him and, inexplicably, she was trembling with desire for a taste of his flesh.  She tried to fight the urge to inhale his scent over and over, to rub her cheek against his hardness.  She failed.  He didn’t stop her, as she feared he might, from initiating a contact he had not asked for.

“Relax, honey.”  His voice rumbled above her head, his hands busy stroking her hair and her back.  “I’ve got you.”

She stilled beneath the tenderness of his touches, and when she was calm again, he said,

“What do you want to do next?”

The question startled her into rearing back to look into his eyes, forgetting his instruction not to look at him.  He was staring down at her, his eyes glazed over with passion.

“Why are you asking me what I want?”  Her question was a shocked whisper.

“Because you gave me what I wanted,” was his simple response.  “I wanted your acquiescence in one thing.  Now it’s my turn.  That is what you want, isn’t it?”

Her eyes filled with tears.  He understood.  She hadn’t ever thought he would.  She wanted an exchange of power between them, an equal exchange, for their mutual pleasure.  And as she let him wipe the tears from her cheeks, she wondered who had the power now.  Because she felt completely out of control.

“Yes,” she said, sniffling.

“So,” his thumb slid under her welling eyes and swept the tears away in a tender show of affection, “what do you want me to do?”

For the first time since she had known him, she relaxed completely, and told him the whole truth.

“I want you to choose again,” she said, and smiled through her tears.


Copyright 2015


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