Everyday Erotica
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- Start date
Angeline
Poet Chick
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- Mar 11, 2002
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Reception
On great green lawns the women
stroll in twos and threes, slim-legged
as birds, prim in pastel or brazen
bright as jewels, smart suits appropriate
to a regal occasion; silk brocade
that whispers when they move and hints
of décolleté when they bend to smooth
a skirt. They're doe-eyed and fragrant--
jasmine, ocean, peony scents their skin
and lingers by them. They wear hats
that point and tilt to sharp angles or, tiny,
sprout from the head, curly or feathered
cockades risen to astonishing heights
as if to signal their fertility, remind
that a mating ritual is underway.
On great green lawns the women
stroll in twos and threes, slim-legged
as birds, prim in pastel or brazen
bright as jewels, smart suits appropriate
to a regal occasion; silk brocade
that whispers when they move and hints
of décolleté when they bend to smooth
a skirt. They're doe-eyed and fragrant--
jasmine, ocean, peony scents their skin
and lingers by them. They wear hats
that point and tilt to sharp angles or, tiny,
sprout from the head, curly or feathered
cockades risen to astonishing heights
as if to signal their fertility, remind
that a mating ritual is underway.
GuiltyPleasure
AWTSS
- Joined
- Jul 12, 2003
- Posts
- 14,131
Come and be sick in the Cliché Challenge, we can supply barf bags providing you take part.
GuiltyPleasure
AWTSS
- Joined
- Jul 12, 2003
- Posts
- 14,131
One Night Stand
A perfect drop of sweat
clings tenuously to her,
still erect, nipple
as she straightens her arms
to hover above me, smiling.
I’m compelled to catch it,
sea memory on my tongue.
We both breath hard
and I'm still tingling from
our climax as she eases
me from her, the feeling
of abandonment is tangible.
I can reproduce that
sense of loss at will
by conjuring up her
smile, post coital kiss
goodbye, her smell.
A perfect drop of sweat
clings tenuously to her,
still erect, nipple
as she straightens her arms
to hover above me, smiling.
I’m compelled to catch it,
sea memory on my tongue.
We both breath hard
and I'm still tingling from
our climax as she eases
me from her, the feeling
of abandonment is tangible.
I can reproduce that
sense of loss at will
by conjuring up her
smile, post coital kiss
goodbye, her smell.
Tzara
Continental
- Joined
- Aug 2, 2005
- Posts
- 7,666
A woman runs by me
each morning
as I walk around the paved path
of the reservoir park.
She runs comfortably,
arms loose at her side, legs
lifting easily in what's well more
than a jog.
As she passes me, I always admire
her trim hips, snug
in spandex running pants. But
what pricks at the man in me
is her hair—long, gathered
at the nape
of her neck, a black
that is veined deeply with gray.
I have never seen her face.
Yet how I long to lift the drape
of that beautiful hair
and kiss her shoulders. Kiss her neck.
each morning
as I walk around the paved path
of the reservoir park.
She runs comfortably,
arms loose at her side, legs
lifting easily in what's well more
than a jog.
As she passes me, I always admire
her trim hips, snug
in spandex running pants. But
what pricks at the man in me
is her hair—long, gathered
at the nape
of her neck, a black
that is veined deeply with gray.
I have never seen her face.
Yet how I long to lift the drape
of that beautiful hair
and kiss her shoulders. Kiss her neck.
Last edited:
Angeline
Poet Chick
- Joined
- Mar 11, 2002
- Posts
- 27,191
Agitated
The laundromat was empty.
I was leaning against the machine,
elbows propped, reading. I think
it was a spring day because I was
wearing capris and a short-sleeved
blouse. You came up behind me
and nudged me against the machine
with your big hands on my hips
pressed to me as that washer whirled
bumpity bump, rippling on us.
You whispered in my ear and your lips
were touching it when you said exactly
what you wanted. I made the sounds
one makes in these instances, soft
as we spun a little dream in that green
afternoon of passing cars, hot towels.
The laundromat was empty.
I was leaning against the machine,
elbows propped, reading. I think
it was a spring day because I was
wearing capris and a short-sleeved
blouse. You came up behind me
and nudged me against the machine
with your big hands on my hips
pressed to me as that washer whirled
bumpity bump, rippling on us.
You whispered in my ear and your lips
were touching it when you said exactly
what you wanted. I made the sounds
one makes in these instances, soft
as we spun a little dream in that green
afternoon of passing cars, hot towels.
Angeline
Poet Chick
- Joined
- Mar 11, 2002
- Posts
- 27,191
Music Theory
Lucinda* sings like her pussy is wet
you say with conviction, with that gleam
you get when your eyes hunger, when
moment is delicious with possibility. Fuck
the snow that doesn't stop, the plow
guy that will make us a misery tomorrow
and who cares right now because a woman
is like a guitar you say, music is so sexual.
I'm hard pressed when you're showing,
not telling anymore to think past Miles'
mouth, embouchure, muscle memories.
The snow doesn't hear our song.
*https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=p1B4Q0hugV8
Lucinda* sings like her pussy is wet
you say with conviction, with that gleam
you get when your eyes hunger, when
moment is delicious with possibility. Fuck
the snow that doesn't stop, the plow
guy that will make us a misery tomorrow
and who cares right now because a woman
is like a guitar you say, music is so sexual.
I'm hard pressed when you're showing,
not telling anymore to think past Miles'
mouth, embouchure, muscle memories.
The snow doesn't hear our song.
*https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=p1B4Q0hugV8
her voice slides naked
the way a drop of condensation
will build up
then roll
down
the edge of a glass
you want to come in for coffee
with a wink
she steps in close
her hand scrapes the stubble
of my cheek
sliding
down
to my chest
we all know coffee is code for
sex
she is wet
rolls down
like beaded drops
puddles on the sheets
the way a drop of condensation
will build up
then roll
down
the edge of a glass
you want to come in for coffee
with a wink
she steps in close
her hand scrapes the stubble
of my cheek
sliding
down
to my chest
we all know coffee is code for
sex
she is wet
rolls down
like beaded drops
puddles on the sheets
GuiltyPleasure
AWTSS
- Joined
- Jul 12, 2003
- Posts
- 14,131
Sin
He whispers heat and
delicious sin. Suggests
transgressions through
the night as our bodies
meet halfway to heaven.
He kisses my smile
still questioning his
intentions, his fingers
follow tender trails
that find me fighting
for a my breath.
We murmur
of fine wines,
lush sweetness
and velvet ropes.
He whets my weakness,
feeds my greed
until I yearn
to own his reality.
He whispers heat and
delicious sin. Suggests
transgressions through
the night as our bodies
meet halfway to heaven.
He kisses my smile
still questioning his
intentions, his fingers
follow tender trails
that find me fighting
for a my breath.
We murmur
of fine wines,
lush sweetness
and velvet ropes.
He whets my weakness,
feeds my greed
until I yearn
to own his reality.
Angeline
Poet Chick
- Joined
- Mar 11, 2002
- Posts
- 27,191
Bar Harbor
I had four stolis
and cranberry juice. God
only knows what you had.
I can't remember shit
from Shinola as we motervate
back to the motel room.
We're happy drunks. We
cross the parking lot and push
into each other before the door
is open. You, ever the ass man,
put hands on my cheeks, angle
me up on that bulge and kiss
down my neck as I laugh
at a night so cool and salty,
scrumptious with ocean scent
but marred by bar noise and not
even so dark in this fucking
parking lot, so we clutch
and jerk our way into the room.
We're dangerous
I tell you when we're naked
and breathing hard, when I
have you pinned to the bed
with my hand on your chest.
You're dangerous,
you say and watch my mouth
like you're still hungry, not
for what you want it to do
to you but because you love
my imagination, which is rich
and filthy with words that fall
on you, making you tremble.
I had four stolis
and cranberry juice. God
only knows what you had.
I can't remember shit
from Shinola as we motervate
back to the motel room.
We're happy drunks. We
cross the parking lot and push
into each other before the door
is open. You, ever the ass man,
put hands on my cheeks, angle
me up on that bulge and kiss
down my neck as I laugh
at a night so cool and salty,
scrumptious with ocean scent
but marred by bar noise and not
even so dark in this fucking
parking lot, so we clutch
and jerk our way into the room.
We're dangerous
I tell you when we're naked
and breathing hard, when I
have you pinned to the bed
with my hand on your chest.
You're dangerous,
you say and watch my mouth
like you're still hungry, not
for what you want it to do
to you but because you love
my imagination, which is rich
and filthy with words that fall
on you, making you tremble.
Last edited:
Tzara
Continental
- Joined
- Aug 2, 2005
- Posts
- 7,666
Myopathy
Well. I cannot move
this indifferent arm.
But then she took my quiet hand
and at least I could watch
her finish herself
with dead fingers.
I felt her warmth,
her wetness,
even if only as spectator.
For now, I can still bend forward
to kiss. For now,
that must suffice.
For now. For now.
Somewhere I can hope there's still
happiness
in the luxury of her body,
whose different paths I can no longer
openly explore.
Well. I cannot move
this indifferent arm.
But then she took my quiet hand
and at least I could watch
her finish herself
with dead fingers.
I felt her warmth,
her wetness,
even if only as spectator.
For now, I can still bend forward
to kiss. For now,
that must suffice.
For now. For now.
Somewhere I can hope there's still
happiness
in the luxury of her body,
whose different paths I can no longer
openly explore.
legerdemer
lost at sea
- Joined
- Dec 11, 2014
- Posts
- 7,319
This throbs with disappointment. But truly dead fingers can't feel, and the hope of actual feeling shines through. A sad and wistful poem, but nursing a small spark of hope in its arms.
Last edited:
Tzara
Continental
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- Aug 2, 2005
- Posts
- 7,666
Molly
We were in my car,
a '67 Pontiac with column shift
and a front bench seat
I had racked all the way back
when she said, I want you
to touch me. I very nearly
said that I was touching
her but suddenly I knew
what she meant and tried
to be gentle as she guided
my fingers.
...............Later, she touched
me as well, but I found
she didn't need any help.
We were in my car,
a '67 Pontiac with column shift
and a front bench seat
I had racked all the way back
when she said, I want you
to touch me. I very nearly
said that I was touching
her but suddenly I knew
what she meant and tried
to be gentle as she guided
my fingers.
...............Later, she touched
me as well, but I found
she didn't need any help.
UnderYourSpell
Gerund Whore
- Joined
- May 20, 2007
- Posts
- 15,794
A golden day of early summer,
with the scent of sweet roses
wafting in from across the gardens
meeting the taste of Pimms
upon my tongue as we chatter elegantly,
old friends and new.
My husband is away somewhere
laughing among his friends,
as you press your hardness
against my leg and whisper in my ear.
Yes even here I want you.
with the scent of sweet roses
wafting in from across the gardens
meeting the taste of Pimms
upon my tongue as we chatter elegantly,
old friends and new.
My husband is away somewhere
laughing among his friends,
as you press your hardness
against my leg and whisper in my ear.
Yes even here I want you.
Angeline
Poet Chick
- Joined
- Mar 11, 2002
- Posts
- 27,191
Changes
The room was pulsing
music and flashing lights
purple, blue and green.
People were dancing,
the crowd packed close, loud
and sweaty so we opened
the window and climbed out
3 flights up on the fire escape.
You pulled me out of my dress
bent me over the railing
and took me hard, both of us
hollering howling at the empty
autumn night, at the street
while Moby Grape played.
When we finished
the song had just ended
and someone in the shadows
applauded from below.
The room was pulsing
music and flashing lights
purple, blue and green.
People were dancing,
the crowd packed close, loud
and sweaty so we opened
the window and climbed out
3 flights up on the fire escape.
You pulled me out of my dress
bent me over the railing
and took me hard, both of us
hollering howling at the empty
autumn night, at the street
while Moby Grape played.
When we finished
the song had just ended
and someone in the shadows
applauded from below.
Tzara
Continental
- Joined
- Aug 2, 2005
- Posts
- 7,666
Music Lesson
I spent most of the dance
watching the rhythm guitar,
trying to memorize
chord changes for different songs.
His fingers were backwards
from my point of view
so it was a little like translation.
Then Lori touched my shoulder
and asked if I wanted to dance
which I sure did when her breast
rubbed over my elbow
and forearm like,
I don't know, like sex,
and afterwards, in my car,
I couldn't remember anything
except how to play Louie, Louie,
and I couldn't even remember that
when she took her tongue again way low.
I spent most of the dance
watching the rhythm guitar,
trying to memorize
chord changes for different songs.
His fingers were backwards
from my point of view
so it was a little like translation.
Then Lori touched my shoulder
and asked if I wanted to dance
which I sure did when her breast
rubbed over my elbow
and forearm like,
I don't know, like sex,
and afterwards, in my car,
I couldn't remember anything
except how to play Louie, Louie,
and I couldn't even remember that
when she took her tongue again way low.
GuiltyPleasure
AWTSS
- Joined
- Jul 12, 2003
- Posts
- 14,131
Hunger
He watches
her as she disrobes,
his arms folded as if
to show indifference
but his dark suit can't
hide his obvious
tumescence that belies
his stance.
She bends
away from him, a deep
bow intended to whet
his appetite. He sees the
glisten of her own arousal
gathering, readying and,
as she straightens she smiles
knowingly,
He ignores
her so she kneels at his
feet as he likes her to,
reaches up to touch the
thing she has caused but
he grabs her wrist, a quick
twist and she is across his
knees.
He uses
one hand to caresses her
long braid, the other dips
into her moisture. Her moans
please him, he speeds up
his stroking until she arches,
crying out. In their bed, later,
he takes her roughly to satisfy his huger.
He watches
her as she disrobes,
his arms folded as if
to show indifference
but his dark suit can't
hide his obvious
tumescence that belies
his stance.
She bends
away from him, a deep
bow intended to whet
his appetite. He sees the
glisten of her own arousal
gathering, readying and,
as she straightens she smiles
knowingly,
He ignores
her so she kneels at his
feet as he likes her to,
reaches up to touch the
thing she has caused but
he grabs her wrist, a quick
twist and she is across his
knees.
He uses
one hand to caresses her
long braid, the other dips
into her moisture. Her moans
please him, he speeds up
his stroking until she arches,
crying out. In their bed, later,
he takes her roughly to satisfy his huger.
Last edited:
UnderYourSpell
Gerund Whore
- Joined
- May 20, 2007
- Posts
- 15,794
Tonguing him back there
produces a hardness like no other,
and as he twists her body
for palm on buttocks
she probes it to the rhythm
of ... smack, smack, smack.
produces a hardness like no other,
and as he twists her body
for palm on buttocks
she probes it to the rhythm
of ... smack, smack, smack.
Tzara
Continental
- Joined
- Aug 2, 2005
- Posts
- 7,666
Why You Are Not Pornography
It's more ordinary than that,
something as basic
as how your jeans show
the shape of your hips,
and if they're really tight,
how your calves are still shapely
enough I want to run
my fingers (or my tongue)
over the long muscles
in your legs. It is your breasts,
still beautiful, beautiful
to me, even though
you are no longer twenty,
and in no way quite so firm. Remember,
how I have softened also,
and think about what we have shared
in that attic over Paris,
that cramped tent in the Cascades
and that even in the decrescendo
of our lives, it is you
I want beside me, your
body I long to touch,
to mold my own body to,
to hold close to me in sleep.
It is you. It is you that I love.
It's more ordinary than that,
something as basic
as how your jeans show
the shape of your hips,
and if they're really tight,
how your calves are still shapely
enough I want to run
my fingers (or my tongue)
over the long muscles
in your legs. It is your breasts,
still beautiful, beautiful
to me, even though
you are no longer twenty,
and in no way quite so firm. Remember,
how I have softened also,
and think about what we have shared
in that attic over Paris,
that cramped tent in the Cascades
and that even in the decrescendo
of our lives, it is you
I want beside me, your
body I long to touch,
to mold my own body to,
to hold close to me in sleep.
It is you. It is you that I love.
"How do you do this to me?"
she asks her voice dropping
(this hisses from her lips,
meeeeee drawn out long
the e growled throaty)
"I think of you as a banana"
I smirk
she swats me
"what are you talking about?"
her voice playful curiosity
"well"
I lean in and let the llllll
roll in baritone
nibbling her ear
till she shudders against me
trembling
"you see,
I simply...."
my hand roams down and unclips the
clasp of her bra
with deft experience
she smacks my hand but giggles
settles in closer
to my breath at her ear
"you can't just eat a banana whole,
well maybe if banana was a eupemism
and you were
down
there
I'm sure you would try to
eat it whole
hmmmm"
I humm
then slide my thumb up her jaw line
she takes it in her mouth
just a little
giggles again
"sorry
back to you and bananas,
you have to peel each layer back
with precision strokes
my hands run down the length of her body lifting
the hem of her shirt
up to the cleft where breast
attaches to chest
too rough and you make a mess
not enough force and it won't open
but once the shell gives way
and the layers are
peeled back
the flesh is
soft and willing
to be devoured
she asks her voice dropping
(this hisses from her lips,
meeeeee drawn out long
the e growled throaty)
"I think of you as a banana"
I smirk
she swats me
"what are you talking about?"
her voice playful curiosity
"well"
I lean in and let the llllll
roll in baritone
nibbling her ear
till she shudders against me
trembling
"you see,
I simply...."
my hand roams down and unclips the
clasp of her bra
with deft experience
she smacks my hand but giggles
settles in closer
to my breath at her ear
"you can't just eat a banana whole,
well maybe if banana was a eupemism
and you were
down
there
I'm sure you would try to
eat it whole
hmmmm"
I humm
then slide my thumb up her jaw line
she takes it in her mouth
just a little
giggles again
"sorry
back to you and bananas,
you have to peel each layer back
with precision strokes
my hands run down the length of her body lifting
the hem of her shirt
up to the cleft where breast
attaches to chest
too rough and you make a mess
not enough force and it won't open
but once the shell gives way
and the layers are
peeled back
the flesh is
soft and willing
to be devoured
Tzara
Continental
- Joined
- Aug 2, 2005
- Posts
- 7,666
Decorum
I have tried to not to look at your breasts
because I know that that probably
makes you uncomfortable.
And I do not want that,
I would hate that
but how can I not but stare
at such perfect beauty? Let me
ask you, instead, about Wallace Stevens,
how real poetry emerges from the ordinary things,
and refocus my gaze onto your slim and elegant hands.
I have tried to not to look at your breasts
because I know that that probably
makes you uncomfortable.
And I do not want that,
I would hate that
but how can I not but stare
at such perfect beauty? Let me
ask you, instead, about Wallace Stevens,
how real poetry emerges from the ordinary things,
and refocus my gaze onto your slim and elegant hands.
champagne1982
Dangerous Liaison
- Joined
- Aug 31, 2002
- Posts
- 7,671
Birthday Feasts
I love you and I want to write you poetry
with my tongue, tasting "I love you”
in rich saliva trails against your lips,
down along your jaw. Shivering a path
over the cords at your neck; the hollow
where your clavicle meets sternum;
and downward, between the rounded
rise of your pectorals; toward the right;
and to find that pale pink difference
and tease it with my teeth; moving
around your nipple and nibbling
it over the very tip with my very lips.
Kissing a sugar drop swirl to the left
and suckling that one there;
drawing desire up from your belly
and down through your cerebrospinal
fluid to heat your libido.
Not stopping when you moan
instead moving, squirming to engulf
you with the melting of my mouth.
My pink softness, humid on your thigh
rocks rhythmically, your skin and muscles
bunched under me. My breathing increases,
my breath exhaled over your stiffening
length, nearly scalding you
before whispering my tongue
over the frenulum where your glans
meets shaft and teasing a promise
of so much more, I want you,
under me, over me, rising up inside me
I want you deep and touching where only
you can reach. I want you.
Right where I can take my tongue
and bathe your balls with my mouth.
Your scent of arousal makes my mouth water,
makes moisture collect on all my lips
as I nuzzle those masculine plums
and kiss the flesh that in its arousal,
excites in me, an answering response.
I love you and I want to write you poetry
with my tongue, tasting "I love you”
in rich saliva trails against your lips,
down along your jaw. Shivering a path
over the cords at your neck; the hollow
where your clavicle meets sternum;
and downward, between the rounded
rise of your pectorals; toward the right;
and to find that pale pink difference
and tease it with my teeth; moving
around your nipple and nibbling
it over the very tip with my very lips.
Kissing a sugar drop swirl to the left
and suckling that one there;
drawing desire up from your belly
and down through your cerebrospinal
fluid to heat your libido.
Not stopping when you moan
instead moving, squirming to engulf
you with the melting of my mouth.
My pink softness, humid on your thigh
rocks rhythmically, your skin and muscles
bunched under me. My breathing increases,
my breath exhaled over your stiffening
length, nearly scalding you
before whispering my tongue
over the frenulum where your glans
meets shaft and teasing a promise
of so much more, I want you,
under me, over me, rising up inside me
I want you deep and touching where only
you can reach. I want you.
Right where I can take my tongue
and bathe your balls with my mouth.
Your scent of arousal makes my mouth water,
makes moisture collect on all my lips
as I nuzzle those masculine plums
and kiss the flesh that in its arousal,
excites in me, an answering response.
delicious_man
Literotica Guru
- Joined
- Jul 27, 2017
- Posts
- 554
Very sensual... I particularly like the 'dangerous' description. That last line is to die for.
delicious_man
Literotica Guru
- Joined
- Jul 27, 2017
- Posts
- 554
Just noticed how old that last post was! I loved it all the same. There really are some great pieces of poetry on here. This is another of my favourites that I've read this evening. Well done to all of you guys.
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