I was born with ovaries for a brain
And a cavity for thought
The predisposition
To put my hand down my pants
At the age of seven
But with a good berating
From my unconditionally loving mother
The putrid seed was recognized
Its stem ripped from my mind
Torn from my clitoris
Too late
Obviously
Too oblivious
To notice that the roots still tangled around me
Its vines growing up into my vagina
The weed that encapsulated my mentality
So the birds and the bees were my friends
At the age of nine
And that cute boy across the playground
Was cuter when I envisioned him naked
Only a mere three years later
And my susceptibility
Ignited the sight of cybersex
The capital XXX
Or more commonly known as pornography
But when my parents soon discovered
The poisonous vines of dependency
The toxic ivy of addiction
It was forced to an abrupt halt
Too late
Obviously
Too oblivious
To notice the compulsive masturbation
That kicked in with the involuntary lust
For a pillow to trust under my hips
Before the age of fourteen
Securing the hypersexuality
So that the hot girl in the hallway
Was hotter when I envisioned her naked
And hotter than the boy next to her
So the bisexuality
Tormented my already demented desires
By the age of sixteen
Simply because
I was born with ovaries for a brain
And a cavity for thought.

Melissa and Ali lived in Neighboring Apartments
During his  time off from work,
Ali spent a lot of his time in prayer
While Melissa would try to relieve her tensions
By masturbating.
One day,
Melissa bumped into the hallway
And asked Ali,
"Do my habits bother you?"
Ali responded, "What habits?"
"What are you talking about, my dear?"
Melissa continued to probe.
"Aren't I kind of LOUD sometimes?"
Ali now understood.
"Oh, you're talking about when you shout,"
"'Oh God! Oh God!'"
"Well, everyone has their own Pathway to God, Ms. Melissa."
"I didn't come to the United States"
"From a Syrian Refugee Camp in Jordan"
"To impose Islam on the United States."

The fresh paint leaks
It is not a painting
Naked in bed.

Man is nature, raw and satisfied.

Do not move.....
not an inch. Just remain exactly
where you are right now so that
I may gaze upon you further.
Your eyes fixed on mine as they travel
the length of your lithe body.
Your lips wet from your biting one side
in a wistful way with a devilish smile.
Your chest slowly moving up and down
as you breathe....such beauty there but
my attention is drawn further south.
Past your navel and the peach fuzz
you are shy about but I adore.
At last, my eyes come to your hands....
exploring yourself and allowing me
to gaze upon your wonder....
There is nothing more amazing to me
than you. No moment more amazing to me than
that when you climax and release.
You are a quasar and when you orgasm,
the stars shoot across my horizons at incredible speed...
the oceans of my mind are frothy white
from your explosion beneath.
The winds gust in my ears and
for a fleeting moment, I am weightless.
Don't move.....just for a second or two longer
so I may remember this for an eternity.

William Lacey Turnbull 6-14-17

her masturbation
maximizes arousal
the orgasmic bliss
gives her that  taste of heaven
a rush of naked pleasure

It's child abuse in the Afghani style,
Men get hold of little boys to play,
They fiddle with the kids' flies,
Dig their fingers deep inside,
Get hold of the miniature tools,
Twiddle them till they just urinate.

And then the kids are addicted,
They keep repeating it by themselves,
It is not exclusive to the Afghanis,
Even some Indians often do it,
I know because even I was a victim.

Now I protect every other kid.

Male masturbation is a lot of time wasted.
And it's very addictive if exposed to at a very young age.
I was hardly aged 10 at that time.

My HP Poem #1585
©Atul Kaushal

Caved in a cross of ornaments- beneath my spine and how a soft slippery touch shivers Salem witches in ritual to my wet moans. Velvet stove crying above these curvatures; is this what they call ‘a sigh wrapped in winter sublime’?

Looks overlooked in wet pastures drooping petrichor on lips slowly rising alive as each drop from that kite’s string tied to two fingers inside a warm belly- underneath a cold belly button- dance to the immortal art of wind striking the corners in clay mustering my sanity like a seed of ocean twinkling under moonlight as the gaze of mythical beings in voids above fill the spaces between cauldrons and freckles next to a shadow smitten just to taste a morsel of love dipped- a shameful sin my body reeks sweet pride in.

One picture
One night
One image
It gets me excited
It makes my fire ignite
You and me
Not your man
Fuck him
Even if for one night, I picture sweet lusty romance
I want you
I need you
You turn me on more and more
Faster
Faster
To that one image
As I beat it off harder
And harder
To that picture
And then...

Ughhhhhh.
I love you.
You’re so sexy.

Sweet ecstasy.
And then... I ask myself,
What did I just do?

A poem about the dilemmas about masturbation, from the male viewpoint.

It is the aftermath that is of most importance.
The moment where they take their hand and slide it up around their own breast.
Their mouth slightly agape in a moment of
Relief? Ecstasy? Guilt?
There is no word for this feeling.
And then they take their hand further up and ruffle their own hair.
Not too gently but not too roughly;
A swipe.
End to end.
They lay there in solitude.

You slept again with that unknown man,
I sniff your clothes, freezing my cheeks sending a nervous shudder,
Radiant exuberance rushes through every cell, as my mind enters a sexual state of pleasure and Benzedrine.
Fire ignites from within every hole, I cry out for my thoughts are their own, and they are spinning on the floor.

I look to the sky and say "forgive me father" as I enter this state of perfect purgatory.
Breaking down crying naked I shriek with delight.
Burning a cigarette hole in my arm I let the supernatural ecstasy encompass me, as Imagine his fiery eyes.

I want to pleasure him, I want him to rip my limbs.
Sit on my ass, and worship his soul.
Feel the feeling as he lifts your legs to his waist,
as he chokes you out of consciousness, forcing you to imagine my reaction.
The feeling of having him inside you as he fills you with pain, pleasure and joy.

For you think you cheated,
and got away,
but in reality I was always really gay.

:) Funny ending.
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