"thong" poems
**** girl
That *** is thick
Don't play with me, girl
You make me wanna lick...
OOPS.
Girl, did I say that out loud?
It's just that that *** in them jeans
Makes me want to shout
Ooh, girl, bend over, show me what's that about
I'm a religious man, Lord, forgive me
For what I'm about to see
So sweaty
So pretty
Her thong showed
Her kitty was getting frisky
If you know what I mean
She was grinding me
Nothing was in between
She looked back and smiled
She knew
I wanted to **** her to the extreme.
Mar 9, 2018
Mar 9, 2018 at 11:37 AM UTC
Its my body, my money, its up to me what I do with it.
But everyone else is wearing it.
I cant help the way I feel.
Blonde
Red
Orange
Brown
Purple
DMs purple with pink laces
school skirt altered in the textile lab 3" shorter
hormones racing, zipping, vibrating, fizzing till the top pops
stairs made for stomping and storming
cackling laughter crackling down the telephone wire
clothes left on the bedroom floor abandoned for a girl crisis.
You cant read my mind
read my lips
read my body
read my journal sandwiched between the midriff covering cottons gran bought for Christmas and the skimpy lace thong I'd be grounded for buying
Mother's mattress sanitary towels tossed aside
for shamefully purchased tampons
instructions included
and time has passed
and masks have fallen
and I find you there in the muck and the mire
and dust you off
until
I see your face - all mothers lipstick and glittering pink eye shadow
and the smile that stores secrets in a treasure chest.
Your legs shake like Bambi's but you get to your feet
and nestle yourself into me warmly, strongly until you fall right into me
and you run and you run and you run and you run and you run
right through my veins
giggles throbbing through my pulse
pajama parties and homemade perfume radiating in my eyes
and there you are
and there I am.
Jun 26, 2013
Jun 26, 2013 at 5:54 PM UTC
The shadows against your skin, the light that hits your
breast,
perfection in your curves my lips softly touch your
chest.
Slowly kissing towards your neck, your hips pressed
hard against my own.
I trace your neck with my tongue and you beg me to go down.
Nothing left on your body but your thong red as sin.
I slowly pull them off, my lips follow down your skin.
Hands grasping on your hips, teasing your inner thigh.
Soft bites followed by kisses, I move closer, close your
eyes...
Legs resting on my shoulders, my hands all over your
silhouette
Your nails dig into my skin, my tongue has you dripping wet.
Sucking softly on your **** nibbling on your lower lips.
Licking from the bottom, going up, as you tighten up your
hips.
I feel every muscle tighten while my fingers are inside.
A sigh of extesy when you *** the first time.
I move up towards your breast as I bite and nibble on the
tit.
I pin your hands down, hips grinding, with my **** on your
clit.
Teasing you with the head, gliding it in nice and slow.
Your back arches, I push harder, I love hearing you moan.
You smile and bite your lower lip trying not to scream,
Leaving marks down my back, take reality from a dream.
Sep 29, 2015
Sep 29, 2015 at 12:09 PM UTC
Sitting here,
wishing she
were here,
In this chair-
on my lap,
straddling me.
Choker on,
wearing a skirt;
pink lace thong
Hair combed long
no shirt on
tats; jet black lace her back
Gently kissing her neck,
she slowly lick her lips,
But, the rest is
all mine...
Her soft skin
rubbing against mine
goosebumps run up her hand
then scatter through her spine
Thin *******
turning me on
intensely
I need her energy
immensely
Her senses
sense me
her scent
attracts me
The rough material of my jeans
Rubbing against her ****
Buckles your knees
I can feel it
The more I move
the tighter she squeezes it
the stare in her eyes
is her invitation
to my demise;
I have
arrived.
Moaning
as she grinds,
absorbing all her vibes
rubbing herself against my thighs-
Leaving her wetness as my prize
Apr 11, 2022
Apr 11, 2022 at 7:42 PM UTC
.
No my Darling, that is not snow.
Its not winter, it should be colder.
No my Darling, that is not snow.
Its just dandruff on your shoulder.
No my Dear, I am not in pain.
Neither am I hurting, or showing grief.
No my Dear, I am not in pain.
Its the lettuce in between your teeth.
Yes my Love, I am listening.
I was just temporarily distracted.
Yes my Love, I am listening.
But your friend is so attractive.
No my Sweet, its not that draughty.
Its not windy, you've got it wrong.
No my Sweet, its not that draughty.
Your skirts caught in your thong.
No my Darling, that is not snow.
It can't be true, its a wrong fact.
No my Darling, that is not snow.
Its just ******* on your compact.
© Pagan Paul (31/03/17)
Mar 31, 2017
Mar 31, 2017 at 5:53 PM UTC
Chereè, Chereè...Her mommy cried and warned her to be careful, 3 months ago she left home for L.A in hopes for becoming a star. Five foot five, dark green eyes, skin complexion as a beige princess, at a pool party in the hills she met the producer to both whoms sparked interest. She had a voice of gold, a personality so bold, and he had the fill to her mold. So she thought, So she was told, Chereè was gullible a young 19 years old. She moved in with Jazzy, fell in love with him, and his savvy, way of making her feel so **** and strong. For three months he lead her on, head and *** every other night and she never recorded one song. Then he came to her and asking, "Baby do love me…Baby do you care." Thirty minutes after she finished her makeup and hair, they stared into each others eyes, he gave her a tender kiss as he caressed her thighs. "I love you girl, and I always will." As she strapped her heels, he uttered a comment about how love doesn't pay the bills. North Hollywood, for weeks the pay was good, until the night she climbed in the SUV. "What's your name sweetheart." "Whatever you want it to be." She hopped in the truck, and he had something tucked, he turned and flashed L.A.P.D. Just do me this one, and I'll let you go…and she prayed to just get back on the stroll. They went in the back seat, the ***** cop was a freak, he used his cuffs to tie up her hands and feet. She waited till he was weak, he came and then she beat, her elbows into his head and felt for the keys under the seat. He whipped out an 8 inch blade and slit her throat. He kept stabbing, and he ever choked her.....looked at the body, and rolled it over, took his cuffs and gave her a soft kiss on the shoulder, he wiped tears and blood from his face with her thong, because he told her……that'd he let her go. He dumped Chereè on the side of the road, and took off for his Beverly Hills home.………And her mother told her to be careful.
Oct 17, 2012
Oct 17, 2012 at 7:33 PM UTC
‘Hemphu’ and ‘Mukrang’
Created this world!
We were born under the ‘Amora tree’
from the egg of ‘Wo Plak Pi’.
Then ‘Sum’ and ‘Sang’ trained us,
Edify us ‘karjong is everywhere’
It is there in air, soil, water, plant, animal.....
Every where!
So we must have admiration for them,
Must nurture and protect them!
Hearting ‘Krjong’ is a crime!
Now everywhere
There is a Chaos!
Rain fades away
Forest disappears
‘Ingnar’ and ‘Bongkrui’ar
are suffering from starvation!
Searching food here and there!
Now everywhere
There is a bedlam!
‘Hanthu’ and ‘Mehek’ are wane
Searching them in day and night!
How we prepare food for ‘Thong Nokbe’!
Now ‘Hi-i-Arnam’ is wandering
Everywhere!
Call everybody
Organize ‘Cho-jun’
to Keep karjong everywhere!
Call one and all
organize ‘Rong Arnam’
To shield karjong everywhere!
Call everyone
organize ‘Wophong Rongker’
To protect ‘karjong’ everywhere!
Sep 11, 2015
Sep 11, 2015 at 8:12 AM UTC
For some reason honey
I'm reminded of a song
A song I hummed
as with my mouth I slid down your thong
Something about the weather outside
guided my mouth in between your luscious thighs
and though the snow shovels and returns just as quick
That song won't leave my head
as I gently nibble and **** on your ****
We won't be able to go anywhere
nowhere at all
that was evident to me
as I thrusted as deep as my *****
But since we're trapped indoors
I'll kiss on your neck as we make love like ******
our burning flesh could melt the cruel snow and ice
let it snow let it snow... now that'll be in my head all night ;)
Feb 1, 2015
Feb 1, 2015 at 2:39 PM UTC
Put on a saw
Movie
I will ware nothing
More then
A thong as we
Watch and **** eachother
Slowly and sweetly
Bring out that naughtiest
In me
Sep 30, 2020
Sep 30, 2020 at 3:30 PM UTC
The birthday song is not a song it's not even a small ditty
As it is only four lines long it's really rather ******
There isn't a good chorus so isn't that a pity
A catchy tune it has not got and the lyrics are not witty
This song's lyrics are so short and there all the ****** same
Apart from the 3rd line down when you substitute a name
Okay you say "Dear" instead of "To", but its still a basic frame
So this is not a song at all so why has it got the fame
It's no wonder people alter the words with monkeys in the zoo
And looking like these critters and smelling like them too
Or changed to bread and butter in the gutter or squashed tomatoes and stew
Because the song is so boring so what else can you do
Who the hell wrote this song was it someone who's autistic
Come on now lets be frank and a bit more realistic
If I where to write this song producers would go ballistic
I'd get thrown out of the biz and become a lost statistic
Just because it's your birthday I'm not singing about happy
People are compelled to sing when really its just ******
It's not the best song in the world I don't want to sound so snappy
The birthday song is full of crap just like a soiled *****
It's like we are pre programmed even Marilyn Monroe
To sing the ****** birthday song just for ****** show
But honestly this song is crap and it can surely go
And we can stop with the pretence and cease going with the flow
When your birthday does arrive and your expecting a big day
The time will come when you know your ears are going to pay
Cos someone's bound to start it with or without your say
Why does it have to be sung does it have to be this way
Singing the birthday song should not be a life compulsion
Don't succumb to the trend and quash your minds impulsion
Stamp down on the process and enforce a song expulsion
Do away with this song and all of its revulsion
The birthday song is not a song when it's sixteen words long
Half of them are happy birthday that doesn't constitute a song
The wording is so ****** thin as thin as a snapped thong
And the musical arrangement isn't even strong
People should not sing this song not even a small bit
Why is it classed as a song we should stop singing it
Most of the words are the same and there is a lack of wit
So don't sing the birthday song cos it's not a song it's ****
Jan 11, 2018
Jan 11, 2018 at 8:14 AM UTC
You lurk in chat rooms talkin
bout what you'd like to do.
All naked accept for a captian's hat.
Ya know after hello it's probaly
not best to ask do you wanna *****
Mr pervert do you enjoy.
Taking trips to mexico maybe to take in a
show.
Getting beat with a wire hanger
being called a bad boy.
Were ya born with a ***** loose?
Did uncle Charlie get to friendly
and papa John slip something in your juice?
Do you really like farm hand dot com
thats just wrong.
No Mr pervert I dont wanna see pics of you
covered in oil wearing a thong.
And im really not into what ya can fit
up your ***
Glad to know what happend to that goon
at the back of the class.
No you cant have my number.
Okay your a woodman.
Please I really dont need any pics of
your lumber.
No I dont wanna wrestle in the dark you freak.
Yes im happy you enjoy being beat every
other day of the week.
You really need some help.
Yes I think to catch a preditor would be a
great show for you to make a appearence.
No I dont wanna play airlane.
so ***** your clearence.
Please why cant that connection to
your basement just go out.
Guess what your doing now.
Well to be honest I know without a single
doubt.
I can imagine what its like to be you.
well ***** that cause theres some ****
so freaky even I wont do.
So when ya see that name appear
on the screen it's probaly best to ignor.
I mean unless your really into hanging out
with a lathred up nut who eats outta
a dog dish apon the floor.
I was flipping through the channels
and to no suprize what did I see.
why dateline with Chris Hanson and
Mr pervert on my t.v.
I had to laugh at every word said.
Gooodbye Mr pervert.
Didnt take a geinus to figure out
you were ****** up in the head.
Feb 17, 2010
Feb 17, 2010 at 11:33 AM UTC
My Mum has five kids
and first one was Paul.
Oh look it's a boy so
we'll give him a ball.
The second was Ste,
a year younger than me.
Then there was Wayne
and oh what a pain!
Now the fourth was a girl
and so her hair we'll curl.
The fifth, it was Gary
and the last one she'll carry.
So four will wear blue,
it's just what you do.
Did nobody check if
this **** is true?
I'll prove this is wrong
when I show you my thong.
You see, I prefer lace
and blush on my face.
But seriously though,
these rules are so dumb.
How the ****
will I tell my Mum.
For twenty five years
I hid it away.
Where do I start
and what do I say?
I showed her my nails,
I'd painted them red,
My Sister piped up
"Are you off yer head"
So the best thing to do
is just show her it's you.
With a smile on my face,
she'll see that it's true.
Poetry by Kaydee. ❤
Dec 18, 2017
Dec 18, 2017 at 4:49 PM UTC
On his body is a ginger bread thong
To soften you up he sings a sweet sugar song
If you hit on him he’ll play along
He’s the **** ginger bread man
He’ll ****** you with candy wine
On a scale from 1-10 he is a 9
Girls look at him and say, “He’s so fine”
He’s the **** ginger bread man
On his face are peanut butter eyes
He has powdered sugar on his manly thighs
He will reel you in with his seductive lies
He’s the **** ginger bread man
On this neck is a chain of candy
Around the house he can be handy
If you add frosting he can be pretty randy
He’s the **** ginger bread man
Out of the batch he is the pick
He has a giant ginger breadstick
It has rainbow sprinkles on it
He’s the **** ginger bread man
You bite the chain and swallow the thong
Eat the stick which is very long
You gobble him up till he’s all gone
NO MORE **** ginger bread man
Jun 17, 2010
Jun 17, 2010 at 5:37 AM UTC
bespeckled, blotched & blokey
feminine in aspects
only little ****** hair patches
two chins,
or rather a sloped one
the front evenly declining to the middle of the throat
a gradual slope from the tip, for juices to run if his manner and situation allowed him to be as casual and sloppy as his laziness chose,
torso without form, so there was no curvature on the buttocks or the fly region.
a mass
a blob of bulges on spindly legs
he leans on the wall
stubby in hand he balks
(he means jovial but unintentionally he vocalises mockery)
at the suggestion that the Pies will do better
& that Eddie is a clever man due for thanks, who has done his club well (apparently a straight Aussie arrow tried and true!)
the man ***** his head back & cackles
(the trebly popping bubbles of a gala crackle outwards as the man cackles)
& decides his arms need a rest,
(a long day of up and down they have had indeed, they deserve respect, or rest (or a benching))
so he places his beer down
on a sloped surface,
& therefore it slips down….
he sees it plummeting, he stretches toward it's tragic trajectory,
…..but he is too slow
it smashes
on his foot (the shards) the beer bottle it transfigures,
and the shards they impart their misery on his toes.
The shards they intrude on his relaxed state of wellbeing, they intrude on the security sanctioned within the casual footwear of a man at a barbecue; taking it easy.
he swears and hops, reaching in indignation for his bleeding toes
he holds the wound cursing; resisting the impulse to begin convulsive throws
(an oscar worthy performance from a usually suburbaly urbane individual)
the moisture feels degrading
(as it would within a man's pants)
the pain from the cuts it is worsened
by the smirking gazes of others about
he hobbles, disregarding his thong in the wreckage of the scene
off to retrieve a band aid
to mend his ego
and his foot
simultaneously
Mar 18, 2013
Mar 18, 2013 at 10:18 AM UTC
I love your curvaceous contours, whilst physiological precipitations calmly shoot their nectar across longitudinal and latitudinal expressions of ontology.
How seductive are your displayed features of blatant enticements.
I truly give thanks for your explicit revelations, where blatancy and discretion collide with dialectical icebergs.
So, my friend of uncertain deliberation, put it on the altar of sacrifice where botanical skies of elliptical infernos resound throughout the classical universe.
I love this revealing and scientific corridor of acknowledgement.
Feb 7, 2014
Feb 7, 2014 at 11:50 PM UTC
The fuzzy purple blanket under me,
Like fur caressing my skin,
So soft, so sensual, like a soft massage.
Soft black fuzzy pillow under my head,
Like a cloud, soft but supporting,
Cradling my head in its arms.
Colourful Tinkerbell blanket covering me,
Soft like velvet, rubbing my bare skin,
A cocoon containing me, to change to a butterfly.
Tight thong embracing me,
Holding that precious centre,
My well of nectar, held in a sweet embrace.
Soft cami covering my ******* my tummy, my back,
Soft on my skin, like a hug, a firm embrace,
Containing my, constraining me, freeing me.
Tight shorts hugging my hips,
My ***** my thighs, Peacock, teal, jade,
Bright and conforming to my curves.
All the textures surrounding me, holding me,
All bring contentment, like heaven,
The textures of my second skin of sleep.
Sep 22, 2011
Sep 22, 2011 at 7:54 PM UTC
Who is the world to define mine right or wrong?
I am the one who decides it on my own
The world a crazy place, people so weird
Finding faults everywhere, while hiding in their beard
When you stand for the right,
They will advocate the wrong
Justifying the same
With million excuses in their thong
Nirbhaya ***** they say girl was characterless
Skirts, shorts, boyfriend, night shows - shameless
And inchoate, rightly arousing men to ****
One in coma now a four year old gang *****
Society mum when humanity disgraced???
Where are the people of so called decent family?
Who judge n criticize from hair to lamellae
If smoking kills, why is it not banned??
Beef eaters killed, man eaters praised on the land
Alcohol, marijuana bad for health
While more people die from terrorist attacks
Crores are spent to maintain a terrorist
To a soldier dying for the country, not even lakhs
A rich is a witch flaunting their gold
A poor a leech for things they cannot afford?
Without external beauty a person is a waste?
Your pennyless pocket how shall I grade?
Other’s loss is a righteous act of God?
Yours is a tragedy, unfortunate loss???
And then you have religion & morals
To justify your notions
Right or wrong, judgement filled oceans
I am a free spirit,
Born not to please your beliefs
Enough of hypocrite world I see
Killing and dividing on castes and creeds.
© Dr. PRERNA SINGLA, 13 Oct. 2015
Oct 19, 2015
Oct 19, 2015 at 5:00 PM UTC
My last trip out of the country
Was Carnival in Rio
The Samba parade in Rio,
It is truly the 8th
Wonder of the World
The most physically amazing
Yet, intensely ******
Thing I've ever seen.
So many beautiful women
Such a celebration of their form
Some in feathers
as large as my living room
Others, only in a thong.
All because of Lent?
Not a Brazilian,
My memories
still make my blood hot
enough to melt the snow
And I realize
I need to see the
Amazon again
I'm reminded, also
That I am,
my mother's daughter
The Samba was so hot
It melts your clothes off.
Save your pennies
And go.
Sep 8, 2015
Sep 8, 2015 at 5:19 PM UTC
oh i can tell you why Brexit happened...
apparently in light of the European
i was not European enough,
a mongrel, a ******* Mongol...
eastern Europeans are Mongols,
mind you...
i'm pretty sure the Brexit vote
happened...
because the A8 joined...
when the Eatern European joined
the old post-colonial powers...
plenty of Pakistanis...
do i mind?
do i ******* care?!
i don't care...
you deal with: the minding!
no...
i have an inheritance tax
without any ceremonial
past...
your **** is your ******* ****
plus the Arab, and the curry...
**** off!
i'm no *******
*vierte ***** pussy-whip...
you ******* yo-yo oreo!
mind you?
put me down on this one...
i hate the Poles...
i ******* hate the Poles...
what they did to the Chernobyl me?
i hate the Polacks...
don't like them...
i'd rather spit
than talk to them...
i've learned my lesson...
i hate them more than
the Germans, or the Russians...
i hate them with the sort of hatred
reserved for
patriots...
Judas Priests...
i abhor the ****** catholicism...
it makes me... cringe...
then i think:
thickens the thong -
better than the Islamic
crap to mind making a boot...
Brexit only happened because
of the supposed invasion of the A8...
the Pakistani mobile gave off a jitter -
somehow the "excess" Europeans
migrated...
whites combined with
whites...
Europeans mingled...
big problem for the Pakistanis...
Brexit only happened because
"eastern" Europe joined the
*vierte *****
well... "joined"...
some of us had enough sense as
to keep the currency...
******* Pakistani bullshitters...
what?!
i thought English girls loved
being gang-rape-fucked?!
no?!
my bad...
the joining of the A8
disrupted the presence of Britain in
the EU...
thumbs up on the curry-sauce...
thumbs down on the Baltic
sauerkraut....
guess what?!
**** you!
you ******* British Empire
bonkers...
relief contra racism with an
Empire disintegrating!
wankers...
sure, beseech alliances
outside of Europe...
seek them, find them,
govern them...
the next time you come shoveling your
**** into my: awareness...
i'll be asking...
so... Rotherham...
no, not really... don't bother me
with that sort of ****
you deal with your ********
before shoving your ***** into my mouth
expecting me to gargle
on the produce...
you're closer to Pakistan
than i am to Mongolia...
you draw the the postcard...
i'll draw the pretty picture.
don't get me wrong, thought,
i hate the Polacks...
i don't belong between them...
i'd prefer to be strapped to a Hydra
of homeless dogs...
than exercise the humanity
of a shared tongue
with these... mongrels;
mind you... the British are just as
bad... when it comes
to their, mongrel stature.
Sep 17, 2018
Sep 17, 2018 at 6:54 PM UTC
I've slowly fallen, like Satan, from the graces
swapped paces and places, to capture different faces
but the wanderlust on my breath is strong, taste this
It's hard to bond when half the time I'm gone
black hair, curves, four leafed clover thong,
afternoons snoozing and browsing Netflix
flashes of my life till I'm on to the next bit
I can't get no respite, I just might break my next flight
for this chick, hopeless romantic, can't stand it
but lately I've been ghost on this whole scene
mind stolen like my future is a bandit
who's mind set is all about the greed
a fiend for the green presidents that sink further into my dreams
calling my name, telling me it's worth the pain to gain
have pockets on swoll with no shame to get a foothold in the game
thousands would be pocket change but the man in the mirror
doesn't look so set, half ****** dressed for bed
wishing he could disappear for a bit, maybe never come back
the king of disappearing, yeah he likes the sound of that.
Jun 23, 2013
Jun 23, 2013 at 3:51 AM UTC
you texted me...
i thought you never would
i missed you
so much of me wanted this
but this isnt how i thought it would be
i cant help but feel
like you have something else in mind
i cant fall for you again , i made a deal
i cant keep hurting myself over you
i cant apologize
its not that i didn't like you , i did
but you never saw it
because it wasnt in the way your used to
so you had a fit like a little kid
i changed alot and im scared
i dont want you to hate the new me
that took so long to build
because no one else cared
im naturally a sad person
i write depressing poems
and i changed the way i dress
i want to be spontaneous
i forced myself to buy a thong
it sits in the back of my drawer
cause i still hate my body and it just feels wrong
but i'm determined to change that
to love ever curve and stretchmark
even when my stomach isnt flat
i dont know how long this is going to be
but im going to be the most authentic me
if you dont like the new me
then well you can leave again
but this time dont come back
just let me be
Mar 1, 2019
Mar 1, 2019 at 2:24 PM UTC
I wait for you and just so you know
I may be in love with you
And no pressure, in fact stay in your leisure but you're suppose to make my dreams come true
Wait, no no, don't get up, sit back down
I'm seeing the look in your eye
You're just lazy, but you'll call me crazy because of the words that fly
Don't look at me that way, shut up.
You don't think I know how I sound?
It's unsettling to be in this unbalanced beam and not so solid ground
Called love and you keep on giving that look like you think I'm insane
But it's you're fault! Oh, crap, don't do that....
Why did that come out of my brain...?
Now don't get mad... please?
Sorry? Crap! You're mad at me, aren't you!?!
I wish for a moment I could give you my eyes so you could see my view
But you sit there with that look on your face
And you simply stare at me
As if I'm a purple hippopotamus hanging from a palm tree
And... you're not laughing
You still think I'm out of my mind
But I have one thing going for me that I can fall behind
One thing that I can claim beyond sanity
And it's that you're a dream come true
Because you're the one only one who can turn my reds to blues
And calm me down and keep me settle
And love me all the same
I see that coy look on your face asking me what's my game
But there's no tricks, I did nothing wrong
My hands are sanitized
But I choose today to be the day to make you realize
That I love you and you love me just like the Barney song
That's been stuck in my head all day like when you wear that pink thong
And I got a smile. Hallelujah!
You're not mad anymore!
But the truth's still heavy upon my heart, stinging like an open sore
And the truth is this
In you lies the key to make my dreams come to life
To not end the trials but to bear on with me in the strengthening strife
To love and love endlessly
Through snow, sleet, hail, or rain
And to make every single thing in my heart come to... sigh... alright. I'm insane...
Sep 26, 2012
Sep 26, 2012 at 12:19 PM UTC
Thumb and index.
Snare with caution.
To hold you firmly and into crocus sack .
Land crab beware. Hungry Belizeans on the hunt.
The Blue land crab rises with the rain and fiddles
forward seeking feed.
Or flooded out from his cavern.
The night brings silence then
an eerie crashing and clacking
by the hundred thousands they run.
The season. when I was a boy.
The art to catch the big one.
Stalk and wait as he travels afar
staking out territory.
Cornered now in fighting stance
back against the wall. a finger
was the bet to get one by hand.
The cowards choice was the
coconut thong that fell from a dying tree.
The Kiss-Kiss two feet long.
The thong.
That was my choice and into the boiling ***
he goes. the cauldron bubbled with a few
And maybe even crab stew.
I still have ten fingers five a hand.
The Kiss-Kiss my friend to the end.
I was chicken but the blue crab
went down the hole with ease.
No worries. The coward's way out.
Kiss -Kiss Rule.
Nov 17, 2012
Nov 17, 2012 at 10:29 PM UTC
*"Just the tip. Just the tip." Initiation. Fourteen years old, fourteen year olds don't know the just the tip trick. It hurt like hell but the sound of his panting was well...worth it. Just the tip, then just the shaft. Just a lick, what a champ…the other half. Gigi was born, de-flowered then flourished. Naughty by nature. Fed and *** nourished. What a **** I was, what a ***** I am.…just slap my *** grab me and pull me in. Choke me, bite me...squeeze, pull my hair, look me in the eyes, cuff me to a chair. Quiet ones you have to watch. I moan louder than I talk, nice rock in my hips....do me real good and I'll wobble when I walk. The club is my home, but not where I belong. Under my hijaab they can't see my laced thong. Taught to cater to the men and serve them martinis. Not dance ***** naked in heels and bikinis. Allahu Akbar. Don't let my family find out. Allahu Akbar. They'll **** me. Allahu Akbar. But if they do. Allahu Akbar. I'm still me.
My name is Neha,
Stage name GiGi however so complex, Stripper in silence,
And I'm strung out on ***
Feb 2, 2013
Feb 2, 2013 at 2:58 AM UTC