Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
minx 2d
he's sitting in his desk chair
the comforting, quiet drone
filling the quiet of the early morning
the air was cool, albeit, carrying the faint scent
of stale coffee and sterile cleanliness

he didn't dislike his job.
this morning, however
was disrupted by a slow, almost languid pace
his stack of files remained stubbornly untouched,
his mind is captive to forbidden territories.

he pictured his little girl
in the soft light of her bedroom
the curve of her bare back as she stretched
a kittenish grace that belied
the sinful paths his thoughts were ravenously pursuing.

a jolt of
pure
illicit desire
shot through him
leaving a tight feeling in his groin, which was unwelcome and undeniable.

he imagines kneeling between her thighs
the warmth radiating from her flushed skin as she slowly awoke.
his fantasy plunged with a dizzying intensity
to the slick, swollen flesh
still damp with the essence of her own wet dreams.

the idea became vivid, tactile
an experience engaging all of his senses.
he imagined the delicate sounds she would make--
the soft mewls escalating into desperate whimpers
as his tongue relentlessly explored her most sensitive places.
piece two

WHERE ANGELS FALL.

piece : SWEET TREAT

(this is my work, based on a coarse and heavy hearted narrative i wrote. based on true events ! ha.. haha...)

[it's also why the dude in my banner photo is sitting in the gothic cathedral. you're welcome for that visual.]

--- EXCERPT FROM : SWEET TREAT

The imagined scent of her arousal intensified, a potent and intoxicating aroma– a cloying sweetness underscored by a sharp, almost animalistic tang, filling his senses so completely he almost believed he could smell it in the sterile office air.

In his mind, it was the very essence of his precious girl's yielding, a blend of milk and honey, thick with a forbidden ripeness. He could almost feel the shuddering anticipation building within her, the subtle tremors in her thighs as she neared the edge, the quickening of her imagined breath.

He’d tease her gently with his tongue, circling the most sensitive spot, drawing out her pleasure, making his little love whine and beg for release. "C'mon, Angel," he'd think, a cruel tenderness in his imagined gaze.

His groin began to stir against the confines of his cotton boxers, a wet patch soaking the front. "Just for Daddy."

Then, the imagined her ******. He could almost feel the violent clench of her muscles around his imagined tongue, the hot, thick liquid flooding his mouth as her head thrashed against the pillows, her eyes rolling back in pure, unadulterated surrender.

"Oh, you like that, don't you, little girl ?" he'd silently gloat, watching his precious Angel's imagined face contort in the throes of pleasure, her breath coming in ragged gasps, the sounds echoing in the quiet office. “This is our little secret, hmm ?” The pressure in his slacks intensified, becoming undeniably present.

A fierce wave of arousal crashed over him. His breath hitched, and a physical manifestation of his mental indulgence. His breath hitched, and a flush crept up his neck, the heat spreading down his chest.

Beneath the smooth fabric of his slacks, his bulge hardened with a stubborn insistence, straining against the fabric, a blatant and inappropriate presence in the professional setting.

He shifted uncomfortably in his chair, the growing ******* a stark and shameful counterpoint to the sterile office environment.

A wave of self-loathing washed over him, a bitter counterpoint to the lingering warmth of his fantasy. This is wrong. The insistent throb between his legs was a stubborn reminder of the power of his forbidden thoughts. This is wrong. Utterly wrong.

The insistent throb between his legs was a stubborn reminder of the power of his forbidden thoughts, a physical betrayal of his vows.

With a frustrated sigh, Yunho glanced around the quiet office. The early morning light offered a cloak of privacy. Shamelessly, his hand dropped beneath the edge of his desk, the rough fabric of his trousers doing little to quell the insistent pressure. He palmed himself, the motion urgent and fueled by a potent mix of lust—

The shrill ring of his desk phone cut through the silence, the sudden intrusion shattering the fragile walls of his fantasy.
my love hate relationship with chocolate –
cause I really love that it tastes so good,
but hate that there’s never enough, or the
need for me to be sharing it. and to such
a treat, we are slaves; when asked what I
need the most between sugar and life –
I need both.

as I endure the whispers of a late snack –
telling chocolate to meet me at midnight;
even when you tell me too much of it is
unhealthy, please let me love the pleasure,
and let me live with the possibility of having
a few less teeth.

it’s my favourite treat, that if you bought it
for me; I’d do a favour for you in a moment’s
heartbeat – as my heart beats for such a
chocolate feast; I can’t help this chocolate heat.
Ethan P Jones Oct 2024
Finding love is like Halloween
Roaming the street in your best costume
Knocking on strangers doors
Asking them trick or treat
Until you find the one you feel comfortable
Taking the mask off with
Nigdaw Apr 2023
the sound of the ice cream van
evokes memories of summers
wearing shorts on hot tarmac
which you can almost smell
the heat coming up on your legs
a blast of warm air and fumes
as an engine fights the heat
to bring you your chosen treat
passed from an impossibly high
window already dripping onto
a hand that you pray won't drop it
coldness on the tongue anticipated
but still not ready for just how cold
something can be in contrast to
the baking sun on the back of your
neck, mission complete ritual satisfied
until you hear again the Pied Piper
like chimes of Greensleeves outside
leeaaun Dec 2022
not everyone can see love
smiling in the eyes
it's a trick
given as a treat
to those who dare
to fall in love
Andy Chunn Jul 2022
Butterscotch for me
The best as you will see
So brown and sweet
A masterful treat
With flavor flowing free
LC Mar 2022
a frosting-filled slice
eaten one day is a treat -
fluffy, sweet, luxurious.

eaten every day -
nails encrusted with frosting,
cloying, drained, decayed.
These are my reflections on social media - in two haikus.
Jade Oct 2021
Come hither, Dear Hallows Eve
and covet these sickly sweets  
till porcelain heaves
poor uvula cleaved,
by Sir Grim Reaper’s teeth—

till eyes do burst
like pop rocks cursed
upon the ghost’s white sheets.


Come hither, Dear Hallows Eve.


Come forth, This Villain’s Night,
fair ghouls, you need not hide
and spectres: don’t be shy!
deliver your joyous frights
the witches do abide—

unearth your tombs;
prepare the brooms

and sweep across the sky


on this Villain’s Night.


Come now, Halloween!
hear October’s screams;
the heart’s curdled beat
against my haunted dreams
from which the darkness seeps.

You call me sick
you cry out “trick”

but still I stick to treat—

Yes!

Come now, Halloween!
Bardo Aug 2021
When I think back now to when I was little (to when I was young)
The words "I love you" I don't think were ever spoken, not in our house anyway (now I could be wrong)
It would have been something silly to say
That was something you'd only hear in a Hollywood movie
Between glamorous movie stars, glamorous people
It wasn't part of our reality
If you were feeling anxious about something and needed comforting
You'd be told not to worry, that you were being silly
You'd be given a hug maybe or 'a treat' something nice
Usually something sweet, a biscuit and a hot cup of sugary tea or cocoa
A chocolate sweet if there were any
You'd be allowed to stay up late and watch the late shows on TV
Me! I was always a terrible worrier just like my Mom
Food most often was the comforter, the soother, the remedy to all
(Some say our relationship with food is the closest relationship we ever have in Life).

Yea! I don't think the words "I love you" were spoken where we grew up
Our parents they loved us as best they could
But they didn't have the words, the words to say it
It was strange...it was almost like they were forbidden to.
Of course, you could love your neighbor alright and your neighbor's neighbor
And your neighbor's neighbors neighbor's neighbor
And all the feckin' neighbors in the whole feckin' world
But the one thing you couldn't, you mustn't do
Was love yourself, this was the Big No No, the Big taboo, the Great Evil
It was the one thing you must never do,
And every Sunday at church, the priest way up on his pulpit
He'd never tire of telling us
How evil and selfish and bad the Self was
And all the bad things it got up to
Yea, your neighbor was always better than you were
Put your neighbor above yourself always
Love your neighbor and you'd be alright
That was the message loud and clear.

                               2

So, so we got treats instead of words of love when we were little
On Friday nights when Dad would come home from work and the pub
He'd always have with him lovely Apple Turnover buns
And a bag of crisps for each of us
And so, we'd all sit there together in the evening in front of the telly
After the maelstrom of the school week with  its lessons and scary teacher
Trying so hard to understand and get your homework done,
And despite all we'd laugh and enjoy the TV shows
And this... this was Love, us all just sitting there with our buns and munching our crisps just watching the TV together
Knowing we belonged and that we were loved kind of...as best they could
And that we had a couple of days off, days of freedom
Before we'd have to go back to school again,
It didn't get any better than this.

And when we'd be going down the country to see our Uncle John
My Dad would always stop off to visit a pub
And he'd get us a Club orange and a packet of crisps
It couldn't get any better than this... this was Love
The lovely sweet taste of that fizzy Club orange juice
And those wonderful salty cheese and onion flavoured (potato) crisps or maybe salt and vinegar flavour
Or later on, lovely smokey bacon flavour,
As we'd sit there Dad would be talking to the barman or some of the locals
But we didn't care what was being said, it didn't matter to us
It didn't get any better than this
This was heaven... this was Bliss.

Sometimes during the summer months before we could get summer jobs
Maybe it'd be raining outside and we'd be stuck indoors and bored
But then Mum would up and say "I know I'll make some chips"
Now Mum's chips were really something special, they'd be lovely big chunky potato chips, hand cut
And maybe she'd have beans in tomato sauce with them,
And maybe there'd be a good film on in the afternoon
Well, this was it, nothing could top that, a good film and a plate of Mum's big chunky chips and beans
Sometimes she'd even make these lovely mince beef pies
With minced beef and flour and onions, salt and pepper on them
And they were really something else
It couldn't get any better than this... and this... this was Love
(I can still remember the kind of meals we ate
And my Mum in the kitchen, and my Dad).

                            3

It's how people grow up in the end I suppose
They find someone inspiring, some teacher or book that makes a strong impression on them (if their lucky)
Or a partner who broadens their horizons, makes them question things and expands their vision of life and all its wondrous possibilities
But what if you don't find those good books, those inspiring teachers
Those voices that'd offer you a better vision of tomorrow and what this life could be
What if you only found bad books, bad books purporting to be good
That'd rob you and leave you lost and desolate, fearful and confused
What if some of your teachers turned out to be alcoholics
That some even done away with themselves
What if the people you met were even more lost than you were yourself...

And you'd go to a job interview and the man, he'd look at you and say
"So, what are your aspirations in Life, what are your values, your goals, where do you see yourself a few years from now ?"
And you'd look back at him blankly, Aspirations! Values! Goals!
What are these words, what's he talking about...
What am I looking for in Life ?
To have some fun I suppose...maybe (if having fun was still legal now as an adult)
Fun!!! Whatever that was now ?
Or to get drunk and stay drunk, escape this grim world I'm in somehow
What am I looking for ?
You tell me...I don't know, what is there
For all I knew I may as well have said
"A Club orange and a packet of crisps".

                              4

Now the faces they have all faded away, the voices too, have all gone
There's only me here alone in this room
It's Friday evening and I've got a readymade dinner from the supermarket
Just need to pop it in the oven for a few minutes
And I got a Dvd from the Dvd store,
So I sit there and eat my dinner, I savour every bite
But still it doesn't last very long
And I can lick my plate but it doesn't make any difference
I can lick it all I like
But I can't make it last, and I can't bring them back again
Those people that are gone;
And the food, it doesn't taste the same, doesn't taste as good as it tasted back then
And the movies too, their not like the ones we used to watch...

When I die it'll probably be like that movie Citizen Kane, at the end his last words "Rosebud"
The name of his beloved childhood sleigh
He used slide on in the snow,
I'll say on my death bed "I too have a memory of Love and Joy, Yea!
A Club orange and a packet of crisps".
A strange write this, life through a foodie's eyes. Another rather melancholy write (or wonderful delicious melancholy write LoL). I love the sad ones, they crack me up every time, take me to deep places within, they take you on a journey. Club orange is a lovely brand of fizzy orange juice over here (like Fanta) and a bag of crisps are potato chips fried wafer thin that'd come in different flavors. Very sugary and very salty and bad for you LoL.
Chocolate cakes from Cocoa beans
Vanilla cream from vanilla beans
Strawberries and small berries
Blueberries and raspberries
Juice made in squeeze machines
Put into pretty canteens
Sugary frosting and treats
Made into lovely sweets
Lemon cakes with lemon flakes
Powdered sugar sift on cakes
Apple and berry pies
A feast for the eyes
In the oven, they all rise
~20/4/21
I'm hungry
Next page