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.

Sometimes I Share Beds

I love sleeping between two people.  Perhaps it has to do with fantasy.

 

“You two can talk until you fall asleep – I won’t mind.  It won’t keep me awake.”

“What about moans of pleasure?”

His raised brow hints at mischief.  We all chuckle, but as my friend continues speaking, my lover is teasing me by playing one of my favorite games: “Shut the Fuck Up, Sugarcunt.”  It’s much like another one of my favorite games, called Concentration.  He deftly squeezes my nipple between two fingers, rolling it back and forth.  It’s not enough for him to win – my eyes meet his, and he interprets the challenge correctly.  The squeezing intensifies, and the stinging fire begins building between his fingertips and shoots straight to my loins.  My mouth opens wordlessly and he pinches harder –

– harder

– harder

until a trembling whimper escapes my throat as my nails climb his broad shoulders.  His attention moves to the source of the sound, long fingers embracing my neck and cutting off my air.  I squirm, and my lover’s nails tickle my groin through my panties; they travel north, and the aching disappointment is so strong that it nearly forms words of protest.  He stifles them before they happen by moving the hand back down, turning the tickling into lazy, tingling-trail strokes.  My hips quiver, lips hang open, eyes wide,

 then I feel it.

My friend’s hands, slipping along my arms.  She tugs them behind me and captures them at the wrists, pushing her body against my back and forcing me to open myself further.

“Don’t struggle, cunt.”

My lover’s lips hang over my ear while his fingers push harder, dragging my panties into the growing well of slickness between my legs.  My friend’s other hand manipulates my other nipple while her tongue plays along the back of my neck.  I’m going insane – two objects of fantasy meeting in an unlikely scenario.  Teeth overtake my earlobe.  The warm strokes have moved beneath my panties, combing through my hair, brushing my clit, and dancing over my opening so coyly that I want to scream.

I’m readjusted now – upright, into her lap, with her arms around me, bracing me, while she shoves my panties aside and pulls my outer lips apart to expose me entirely.  Her teeth nip at the skin where my ear meets the neck, causing a violent tingling sensation at the base of my spine.

There is a warm, wet probing at my clit.  Liberated, my hands are now free, and they clutch for anything – sheets, pillows, my friend’s thighs.  I dig my nails into her flesh as I’m licked from the perineum up, his tongue fluttering double-time across the hood of my clit and then back down.  Over and over, harder, circling, sucking my inner lips, tongue tracing naughty words and sweet nothings and fingers pumping now, thrusting up and forward, pushing deep, in and out hitting behind my clit and it feels sogood and sohardandsosweet and FUCK.