One Of My Poems From My Deleted Blog

The Expression

There it is.

The expression

I have come to know.

You on the precipice

Between the familiar

And surrendering to letting it happen,

That one thing, once imagined,

Once fantasy, now upon you,

Your last chance to use the word

And be safe, or give yourself

To more that you believed you would ever

Actually

Do.

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I remember the first time I saw that expression on your face. And the second. And… Trust and desire as we moved from fantasy to reality.

The photograph is from a reader, used with permission. @capemayartist-blog

I love when one of my poems from my deleted blog finds me.

A Reminder

Legs high. Taken deep. A second time in as many hours. A reminder. There is no end to my need. And evidently, yours either.

Before

The others, the ones before, the ones who have shared you, those who thought they owned you, and perhaps you too believed they did, until us, when you discovered what owned actually means and gave yourself to a slavery you only dreamed of before, liberating and eternal, no matter the distance.

I love when one of my poems from my deleted blog finds me!

The Last Barrier

“It can be easy or it can be hard. I tell you  as I undo the satin strap. 

The speed and the depth of your breath tell me which as I pull off  the last barrier 

One of my poems from my deleted blog.

The power of submission

I look down to you on your knees,  this vibrant, powerful woman,  half dressed, submissive,  hungry, oh so hungry to please,  waiting for my touch,  waiting for my command and I am more than aroused.  I am humbled. 

I love finding my poems from my banned poetry site.

Not So Certain

Trust. One step further, then one step more, certain, but not so certain there is not a shiver at the touch of something unexpected, sharp as a knife, dangerous, and tender both.

Weakness

I have a weakness for you surrendered

Are you familiar with Literotica? If you are wanting a larger readership you may find it there.

I am, but I have to admit, I had not thought of them for a long time. Maybe I should submit a few things.

I love it when I find a poem from my deleted blog that I can repost to my new on. In this case the poem found me. A Reader from London refound me and shared two. Thank you!

Once Again

And afterwards, you are spent, your legs draped over the furniture, the flush in your cheeks, the look of amazement that once again you have been moved a little more beyond, forced by permission, and later by desire to become, once again, something new.

To The Man Whose Cum is In Her Mouth

You have it all wrong, thinking I have share her with you. Oh no. I have instead gifted her with your cock. A bit of pleasure, different enough to excite her, a fulfilling of her fantasies, with you as the bit actor, large enough, polite enough, willing to follow instructions, able to be watched without wilting, a man who appreciated what she is, from her curves to her breasts, to her uncommon tightness, and of course, her ability to take, even you, beyond her throat. No, she was not shared. What we have goes beyond anything you felt. Trust me. I know. We have done this before with different actors. And we will do it again.

I do not have to tell you how satisfying you were. Her orgasm tells that story. We are both glad you were all you advertised. All you promised. Too many are not. And now, should you see her on the streets of the city, you will know what lies underneath, what it feels like inside her, So tight it is like a fist grabbing and pumping, yet warm and slick and hungry. You will know her throat, all of it. And you will know me, beside her. taking her night after night, feeling all you felt, and more. Feeling the heart that makes her, her. Mine.

No my friend, she was not shared. You were given to her. That, and nothing more.