Love For All Seasons

if your fingertips
were rivulets of rain
roping down my chest,
i would close my umbrella.

if your lips
brushed my ear like the
faintest flutter of a butterfly wing,
i would sow milkweed,
fructified by delighted moans.

if you sang me
the verse of your true name,
i would memorize every note
until i hummed it in the shower
and heard it in my dreams.

i will never know how to ask
without shattering fine glass,
so silently,
i entreat you:

be the summer storm
my humidity breaks upon,
whose first peal of thunder
is met with welcome gasps.

be the crisp breeze
between my autumn leaves,
sending branches trembling
with every gust.

be the fireplace
that warms me from top to toes
when winter’s gale is too icy
to untangle our bodies.

be the rivulets of rain
that rope down my chest,
that wash away my anxieties,
and spread me open to greet the spring.

The Gap

I’m thinking I have to stop giving blowjobs before my Tinder dates touch my genitals, if I ever expect to get my vagina touched.


Another (“different”) man
zips up hastily,
kisses me, and
leaves again.

Rides off
on his horse
(of promises),
easily broken.

The asphalt
beneath his tires
glitters (with apologies)
in his wake.

I didn’t want him to stay
forever, but I wish he’d stayed
long enough
to make me cum
(too).

Poems I’ll Never Send My Tinder Dates: The Pinball Wizard

[CW: This is sexually explicit.]

******
******

to the guy
who made me melt by
catching my eyes and
winking
with an affectionate grin
while his cock was in my throat:

when i danced and
shit talked your router while i
adjusted your wifi settings
(only because
i offered)
you stuck your head in from
the balcony, and, with
understated gusto, said,
“i like you.”

the time you spent
plying my nipples with fingertips
while I stroked your cock
in traffic
surprised me with how much
intense pleasure
i derived from
my breasts
alone.

i love the way you deftly
wind my ponytail around your hand
before you pull my hair.
i savored the way
it made my
entire
cunt
tingle
like electrical static
as you controlled my head that way
and sucked my lower lip ’til
i whimpered.

and i love that,
while you didn’t use dominant words,
you still expressed it
with firm, decisive touch,
guiding me to what you wanted,
and never pushing back
if i had to pull away.

i sucked
the shaft of fire
between my lips
as you watched.
trent reznor singing,
“there is no fucking you
there is only me,”

as I pumped my
fist and
moved my
lips and
curled my
tongue
over every vein.

i rode you
until my knees protested,
twisting and writhing
as you squeezed my tits,
making my cunt clench around you,

until there was no you
there was no me
there was only fucking you
and I could live in that moment
forever.

Poems I’ll Never Send My Tinder Dates: The Tiger

[CW: This is sexually explicit.]

*****
*****

to the guy who kissed
like his presence in my life,
which is
fucking THERE:
occupy as much of me
as you desire.

when you held me
you cradled me
in your arms, with
no stress, no hesitation.
our embrace had
no preparation
no trepidation
only desire
tinged with tenderness,

while your tongue
made your presence known
behind my lips
and in my brain.

every night i
cup my hand over my vulva while I
think about your mouth and
your arms around me as i grew
hotter and
squirmier and
needier and
deliciously small in a way
that almost felt new.

i remember
the quick dip of your hips
as the tip
of your cock
hit delicious places while
filling the hungry, empty spaces
in my cunt,
zones of intense pleasure
i barely remembered i had.

and my thumb traces
my lower lip
as i think about it wrapped
’round the head of your dick,
tightly across the edges of your
latex-shrouded cock
slick with my juices.

condoms would all taste better
if they were me-flavored,
but every night i put my fingers in
my mouth, and I think,
“they’d probably be better
if they were you-flavored.”

Poems I’ll Never Send My Tinder Dates: The Freedom Fighter

Hi gang!

One day I will write a long post about my move and my new life. I will not be doing that today.

This evening I did a video interview with Nicholas Tanek of Your Kinky Friends, so check it out here! We discussed gender, kink, my most embarrassing sex story (CW for vomit), my favorite toys, sex blogging (with some advice for new bloggers!), and some delicious word association. Also, if you enjoy the work of everyone taking part in YKF, give them a follow on Twitter: @FriendsKinky

The other thing I’ll leave you with is the start of a new series: Poems I’ll Never Send My Tinder Dates.

CW: this is sexually explicit.


to the guy who kissed
like he wanted to crawl inside me:
i want you inside me too.

i want to relive
the way you seized me
through my anticapitalist melody,
and kissed me like
you couldn’t resist me,
all-consuming –

everything you’re doing is
(so good) on the mouth,
making heat flood every
single
solitary
inch of me
south of the
waist, where your hands wander
up my skirt again.

i want to pull back
your foreskin,
you’ll spread your legs
to let me in
to the warmest,
tightest
part of you,

like i want you inside me too.