My buddies shared stories

When they wanted protection

But the ******* fanatics’

Decisions were static


Used all possible ploys

To manipulate guys

Into blowing their loads

In their pink little holes


These girls might be crazy

They may well be *****

For all we know

They might want a baby


Regardless of risk

My guys fell for their tricks

When one ruse failed

The girls went down their list


They said not to worry

*** and ***** are clean

When they ****** the next day

It burned like lit gasoline


They turned up the heat

Seduction was key

Till all they could think

Was with the head between their legs


It won’t feel as good

Sensitivity reduced

You won’t stay hard

And I won’t stay wet and squirt jets


You should accept my request

I thought we were cool

If you just trusted me…

Be carefree like a hippie baby!


Emotional blackmail

I’ll get mad if you insist

To protect your *****

Resistance is futile *****


They said if we must

Let ME wrap it up

I’ll secretly poke holes

Or slip off before you explode


She’ll have no *** at all

Or she’ll force you down

And stay on top

Making you drop the ****** to the ground


She says she’s on the pill

When she’s definitely not

Even if you pull out

There’s still ***** in your pre-***, no doubt


Either she’ll give you disease

Or steal your seed for a baby

None of that is love

So wear a glove bubba


At the end of the story

They said don’t stick your **** in crazy

She might get too attached

You’ll wake up with your **** and ***** detached

In slow, firm circles, my fingers glide,
Teasing her gently, her breath amplified,
With each trembling gasp, her body speaks,
The language of pleasure in waves and peaks.

"Do you like that?" I whisper, a firm command,
As I guide her desire with a steady hand,

In the rhythm of yearning, she finds release,
In the dance of control, a moment of peace.
Our world narrows down to this intimate bind,
Where power and passion in union unwind.

I just finished Face Timing with Sunny, one of Lisa and my roommates.
She’s an edgy half-a-laugh, and I can’t wait to see her in person.
Sunny’s a slipa and seductive gadabout - this poem is about her summer:

She’s a treacherous lover whose infidelities could populate
a city of confessions. Apparently, the streets we ignorantly
travel, are crowded with immediate, sordid, physical wants.

And Sunny, she can see them, like blinking neon bar lights,
feel them, like radio waves the rest of us monkeys miss.

Does she ****** the Waffle House waitress (in the restroom),
the professor (in the closet), the Urban Outfitter salesgirl
(dressing room), the dental receptionist (supply room),
the bar girl who rejects everyone else that hits on her
(backroom), or do they ****** her?

“How do you know?” I asked her once.
“I know,” she said, nonchalantly purring like a big, Serengeti cat after a ****. Now, you might ask - it’s legit - how do I know these trysts are real?

Well, at school, she brings a different girl to her room almost every night.
They pass through our common area quietly, on the way to her room.
And, like you and all of us - she carries a camera - and uses it.
Her cloud archive is an ******, deep dive into a hidden America.

Flipping through it leaves me breathless, and I’m not fem-facing.
If she sold it to ‘The Getty’ they’d have to open a new wing.
.
.
Songs for this:
i wanna be your girlfriend by girl in red [E]
Lava by Still Woozy
.
08.16.2:30p

In his bed, she lay, pressed deep inside,
His raw desire, no need to hide.
Pumping into her, his ***** slapped her ***,
Bite marks on her neck, their passions surpassed.

Moans filled the room, a symphony of lust,
His grunts echoed, their bodies a ******.
Chest to chest, he rumbled and roared,
******* her deeper, into the mattress he soared.

Overwhelmed, she felt on the brink,
Too much and not enough, her thoughts couldn’t think.
Holding him tighter, legs wrapped around,
His **** slid deeper, lost in the sound.

Her knees trembled, her cries filled the air,
“That’s it,” he moaned, pulling her hair.
“*** on my ****,” his voice a command,
And she did, falling apart in his hand.

Trembling, moaning, his name on her lips,
She came all over his ****, in their lustful eclipse.
Feeling his twitch, his pulse, his release,
Warmth filled her up, bringing her peace.

In that moment, with him, pure bliss,
She could die happy, embraced in his kiss.
A symphony of ecstasy, their passions untamed,
In each other’s arms, forever they remained.

In the dimly lit chamber, we set the scene.
An owner and his pet, a game of primal and prey.
She kneels like an eager dog, a collar around her neck.
He stomps his feet and keeps her obedience at play.

The owner, like a magician, keeps tricks up his sleeve.
He wants his pet to learn— to be his student and please.
Commanding her to crawl, to fetch and beg.
Waiting for him to call her a good little pet.

She barks and whimpers, a puppy in passion.
Spins three times and licks her master’s feet without a whine.
The pet surrenders to her master’s might.
She delivers his sturdy leather boots in a straight line.

With a flick of the whip, the pet curls in elation.
Her master chuckles at her sounds of temptation.
Submitting to the cynicism of ******* and discipline.
She is flogged like a plebeian, forgetting she’s a citizen.

Pet and master, a bond so strong.
The two are bound by zeal, craving one another.
She wallows in the comfort of her belly rubs and treats.
And runs around with a rush of red in color.

She goes through treacherous training.
And yelps if she’s ever caught complaining.
Waiting for a tasteful gift: the eternity collar.
When she is ready, he puts it on with honor.

Propped on pillows, a vision divine,
Legs spread-eagle, an intimate shrine.
Hands cupped your flower, fingers roam free,
Wandering fields of ecstasy.

Eyes closed tight, lost in delight,
Bottom lip bitten, a tantalizing sight.
Fingers dance in a rhythmic spell,
Arousing whispers, where secrets dwell.

The scene before me, pure intoxication,
A moment steeped in deep fascination.
I could only dream, imagine the feel,
As your touch brought pleasure, raw and real.

In this moment, I am both an observer and a participant, feeling every ounce of her pleasure as if it were my own. The world outside fades away, leaving just the two of us in this private, electric connection, where every sigh and moan feels like a secret shared between lovers.

As I watch, a part of me wants to step into the room, to be a part of this intimate scene, to feel the heat of her skin and the intensity of her passion up close. But I stay rooted to the spot, captivated by the beauty and vulnerability before me, my own breath syncing with hers, the space between us charged with unspoken desire.

The way her fingers move, deft and confident, sends a shiver down my spine. I can’t tear my eyes away, drawn in by the rhythm of her movements and the soft, intoxicating sounds escaping her lips. Every touch seems to ignite her more, her body arching and trembling in response.