If there is one thing I will always be grateful for,
It is how I was raised and who I am.
My mother taught me that there is no such thing as a *****,
And if I am called that by anyone not to give a ****.

My ****** expression and who I decide to let inside me,
Does not define who I am and my worth.
People may not like what I do and won’t always agree,
But my sexuality is as natural as grass growing in the earth.

And probably the biggest double standard ever,
Has to be the praise men receive when they’re laid.
They get called “badass” and “stud” when they pull off that endeavor,
But if women do the same they are met with lots of shade.

The saying it takes two to tango comes into play here,
Because if a man’s getting laid so is the woman.
So let’s get **** shaming to disappear,
Because after all we are only human.

her fingers up inside of me licked my ego like a flame,
my well-rehearsed ghost moans and arches
teach me that i am a piece of performance art.
the cracking open of a can, the lick of the lips,
liquor and *****: age-old remedies for **** near anything.
lingering hands post-******
are swiftly denied, refusing any feelings she may want to manifest.
i still can't look in my lovers' eyes
and my hands don't stop shaking until that liquid
that tastes like battery acid flows like honey down my throat.

You're a flower-child,
spread on the bed with
flowers stuck to your little
head,

with Ginsberg & Whitman on
the shelf & feminine mystique
dripping from the
ceiling.

Moon-lady,
Venus,
tides rising & crushing
the shore,

while I snuggle
my flannel for warmth,
trying
not to be a bore.

Framed pictures as you
reminisce on when we
were younger &
untamed.

"We can still be untamed,
we've been framed
for uninsanity!"

But you call me a fool
& put your
porcelain head in my neck
& I feel foolish.

In the damp light of a cloudy day,
muscles aching, waves
crashing,
uncontrollable urges.

Stranded in the pregnant
belly of a ***** secret city
drawing
the red rose of secret union

& we are sheltered
in the ****** warmth of the
blankets,
cocooned like little monsters.

The calming ocean
& the calming whispers
& the tiny kisses
surround me, blot out my thoughts.

You sing me to
sleep &  run little
fingers
through my knotted hair.

Your tiny dollar store
Buddhas belch incense
over
the backdrop of your perfume.

The wind chimes
twinkle & whimper on the
porch where the swingset
rocks in the rain.

"I wish you weren't
engaged but I don't mind
breaking a few taboos."

You laugh like a soft mad fairy
& look down
at your phone & I turn over
on my naked side.

You laugh a funeral
giggle & I know I should have
worshipped you sooner
at the pillow-altar.

Show me Heaven without
death &
the Garden of Earthly Delights
devoid of sin,

show me your sharpened fox
grin &
the way sunset ripples
at your breath,

I will show you sacrifice
& the hidden light
of our lives
in the damp of the night.

Open my eye; Morning, love
         waking.
        Touched your thigh; you are,
          faking.
******* to side; Now your,
           shaking.
           Slip'n slide; Your back,
            aching.
Taking my time; Morning, love
             making.

I told her,"Cross your legs tightly, and start rocking back and forth. Be patient, it might take some time. Just, let it build up. Don't uncross'em and it will feel awesome. You should know yourself, what works best; rolling or rocking. Don't think about it, just relax. Use your muscles, the one(s) between your legs. Read in between the lines of everything thing I just said, then repeat it in your head, word-by-word, sign language on your lips. Your heart skips. Speeding up your heart's beat, note-to-self all over your sheets. Pace yourself, you can't cheat. First come, first serve; you can't beat. Just, listen to my voice, follow my lead. Take your time, no rush. Relax, match your breathing with mine. slow, down, take your time. Find your fingertip, with your tip, and grind. Pause, fast, forward, left, right; rewind.  Now, do all if that, one more time. But first, lick your fingertip, so your *******, rise and shine, glitterish. Your index, just slide, inside you appendix, cause I penned it.  Now, move your hips, like you are enjoying the ride. Here's a tip; curl your fingertip, like my tongue licked your upper lip; the thought alone should make you flip - ******* colored wet, that's my favorite. Just use your imagination; then go for it! If I was there, I would, make you, "Knock on Wood." Now do what Simon says, and you should be all good."  Then she just hung up the phone. So, I guess she was good.

This is how it goes
your hands will be proxy for mine
my hands will be proxy for yours
your fingers my fingers
and my fingers yours
what I describe, you enact
told in detail so exact

Just to begin
I squeeze your *******
knead and pinch
tweak a ******
give it a tug

Stroke your tummy
work over your thighs
move up the inner
where skin is smooth
circle around, moving in
till soft contours are caressed
through pants that burn
to be removed
that pain you to wear
and I see in my mind
as you describe
the spreading, darkening patch
that fills the gusset

Now they're pulled down
removed quickly, completely
and you are revealed
spread, opened, shameless

Gentle fingertips tease
dance in circles, barely touching
yet the fire within grows
back and forth, round and round
dance the fingertips
as both reciprocate
with growing pace
and firmer touch

I hear you gasp down the line
and your breathing quickens
as you hear mine
as your excitement fuels mine
as mine fuels yours
in our feedback loop of lust

And I tell you how
my fingertip would give way
to tonguetip if I could
that I can taste you
in my imagination
fragrant, salty sweetness
with musky undertones
the tip of my tongue now circling
then flicking back and forth
beating out the rhythm
that you best harmonise with
bringing forth your moans

Then darting down, back
between wet, glistening folds
exploring each ridge and valley
working remorselessly

Breathing faster now
with animal grunts and moans
directions of pleasure gasped
breathless down the phone

As fingers again
take the lead
find the opening
slip readily within
probe, explore, ****
find that place
on your front wall
yes, just that spot
that's a little rougher
and feels sooo goood

Add a second finger
working and *******
licking and rubbing
moaning and gasping
barely intelligible now
...yess...more...yess...ohhh
are all that have meaning

Finger three joins one and two
then the pressure builds
demanding release
and shaking and thrusting
grows to shuddering
and...yes...yesss...sooo clooose

******* faster furiously
till we both explode
hearing each other's
voicing of our ecstasy
in language intelligible
only in this one context

Brains and voices return
as we bask in the afterglow
and what passes between us then
in those moments
is the deepest intimacy of all

Cynthia Pauline Jones 01/02/2014

A little thing called *****, its just like when you get a text and your fingers play a sensual melody on the keys.
Notice I use the word sensual to depict the image of the man being the fingers and the woman being the keys, with that touch she loves so much...she may not know if it's love our lust.
At first she may have been confused...but didn't resist to remove her clothes and shoes, way after it will turn out into a story of pleasure and laughter.
This thing called *** is not for kids, it might start off with a kiss , then a poke some months later she tells you she has your child you thought was a joke.

I walked into the guitar store
simply desiring to change the strings
not knowing at all
what this lovely day would bring

I sat my acoustic on the counter
and picked out my string set
Martin Acoustics, always trusted
a purchase I never regret

I sat and played on my Christmas present
A baby blue Fender Strat
into the shop walked My lady
with a figure like an hourglass

She said she was in the mood for some excitement
I was always willing to provide
I said but darling were in public
she said I don't care, I want you with those deep blue eyes.

so I snuck her into the repair shop
surrounded by tools and parts
I kissed her deeply and traced
on her ample ******* a heart

I slid her pants down and drank from her womanly cup
I heard her moan and whimper
as deeper and deeper I supped

she decided to reciprocate
and slid down my jeans as well
I looked to make sure no one was coming
because this would be hot I could tell

She laid me on the table
kissed up and down my neck
I rolled her over
so I was on top of my lover
I stood proud like a soldier

After the first ******
I kissed her and said you ride next
she bounced on me so hard
I felt more and more of her soft heated flesh

So after our day in the guitar store was done
she held onto my tool like a loaded gun
she said this belongs to only one
woman on this earth
me and you better always be ready to fill me with your girth

;)

If poems were ***
then,I wouldn't be a ******
i would caress the letters
fix a foreplay with title
i would literally **** the words
to give birth to soulful sentences
if poems were ***
I wouldn't be ******,still.

mind frozen
  
                body tense

I keep telling myself that I care about spiritual growth

but **** it all to hell
        
                    i want to be close in the biblical sense

somewhere there's bumpin' and grindin' happening this very minute.

intimacy intimacy, i tell myself

feel my feelings

i've been numb to my ****** feelings

i get all this, but sometimes ****** thoughts and feeling hit me so hard.
                         i don't know what to do with them, they just mess up my head.

i want serenity.

        i want peace.

              i want some wisdom in all this.

i am not a monk.  
    i do not want to be celibate,
                                            but **** I don't want to be overwhelmed either.


For now I am embracing my *** crazed thoughts, but not acting on them.

                i am more than my thoughts and feelings.

                                                  i am.