JUST SEX and POETRY

“ROCK ON ROCKERS!!”

Level 8

Since: Mar 11

Rockin' USA ;)

#4622 Dec 4, 2012
Princess Hey wrote:
hey CC..its okay..not sex all the time..:O)
Love is like a lump of gold,hard to get and hard to hold.Of all the guys I've ever met,you're the one I cant forget. I do believe that God above,
created you for me to love.He chose you from all the rest,because he knew I would love you best.....
ROCK ON, Chick...YOU Said a mouthful!!! Sooooo beautiful, your Words of Love...Yes...SEX is NOT a BIG DEAL...when you have found TRUE L OVE...LY...(((HUGS))))
Anonymous

The Gap, Australia

#4623 Dec 4, 2012
So much stalling
and there was a point where
I just did not feel like
I could go another minute.

I didn't want
to force the issue,
but it seemed like
she was just dragging her feet
and not making an effort
to get ready.

The party started in an hour
and I hate to be late.

I finally came up stairs,
and there she was
putting on another outfit
and then going
all through
the shoe decision process
all over again, again.

The makeup
and the sunglasses
and the purses
and the matching
panties and bra,
and the endless array
of jewelry
and earrings
and to show
her tattoos or not.

And all of a sudden
I just whisked her up
and pulled her hoodie
up over her head
and pulled down her boy shorts
and bent her upside down
and fucked
the ever-loving shit out of her
and as she finally came
and gasped her composure
she said,

"Okay then,
the blue green dress
and all gold jewelry
with the opals it is,
and the stilettos.

I won't be needing a purse,
and you can carry my phone."

And it was that simple.
Anonymous

The Gap, Australia

#4624 Dec 4, 2012
Moon hangs, almost full
pieces of cloud scatter,
glide in soft, summer breeze.
We lay in our meadow
listening to the sound of night
her head nestled on my arm.

Night air made for kissing
dances upon our skin
chilling wherever is damp.
She stirs, quietly calls,
my name hangs on summer eve
floats about our meadow.

She sighs, moves closer
snuggling in, once again
her breath stirs, awakens.
Hands join in gentle caress
exploration shared and renewed
oh, so smooth and lovely.

We turn, lips meeting
slow, softly, delicate
building quickly to demand.
Crying out, beginning and end
collapsing, breathing ragged
moon hangs, slightly fuller.
Anonymous

The Gap, Australia

#4625 Dec 4, 2012
A touch of skin soft and slippery,
With the hint of hint of sweat.
We fought our resistance beneath the cool satin sheets,
As the wind flowed from the window above us.
Eyes met briefly and begged for the chance,
To abandon all of our uncertainties.
You began your work on my lips,
Probing gently as if drawing sex,
From a deep well of longing and need.
Then heated tongues met in the midst,
Of hot and quickening breath.
And greedily we drank the wine of our lusts.
Then intoxicated with those spirits,
Our clothes found resting place on the floor.
Piece by piece,
Until there were no hiding places,
For the two glistening and wanting bodies.
Hunger revealed in this hot moment.
Then skin meshed with skin,
As the floor became the stage.
You moved atop of me easily,
And lowered yourself gently.
Kissing me as I was filled with you.
As a gasp broke the kiss,
Your hands stroked the stray strands,
Away from my forehead, then became entangled.
Our slow rhythm gave way,
To urgent and demanding thrusts of passion,
As I arched my body for your comfort,
And you threw me into ecstasy,
With the strength of your blows.
You left me screaming and soaked,
In oblivion again and again,
As you growled my name from the back of your throat,
And our bodies both demanded more,
Each giving to the other,
High on the fluids of foreign substance.
I grasped, then released you,
Grasped then released you,
In effort to relieve you of your control.
The taste of your skin between my lips,
Was like no other.
To hear your cry of mercy,
When my teeth met your warm skin,
Was more breathtaking than you knew.
Yet I still released the control to you.
As you wound your hands in my hair,
And pulled until the flesh on my neck was taut,
You moved with one final and breaking blow,
Forcing our way to the peaks of bliss,
Leaving our screams to echo on like battle cries.
I welcomed the weight of you to crush me,
As you collapsed on top of me,
Still hot and burning,
And I glowing like an ember,
Casting a welcome light,
Should you seek my gifts again.
Anonymous

The Gap, Australia

#4626 Dec 4, 2012
Have I ever told you
that if I sit really still and silent,
sometimes. I like to think
I can hear your heart beating
in time with mine?

Have I ever told you
that when I watch you speak to me
through lines and cords,
and bytes and ram,
I imagine
your voice,
whispering into my ear?

Have I ever told you
that I wait out each day
in anticipation,
wanting
only an hour or two,
just a second in space and time,
to feel close to you?

Have I ever told you
that there has been times,
when I ached for you,
ached for you so badly,
that the emotions overwhelmed me..
and so I sat and cried?

Have I ever told you
that sometimes,
I will reach out,
touching your name
on this cold screen before me,
wishing
I could reach in
and pull you to me?

Have I ever told you
that after the first time I heard
the sound of your voice,
thousands of miles away,
I sat up all night,
turning the conversation over and over
in my mind,
examining it,
like some newly discovered species of flower?

Have I ever told you
that I would give everything up,
just for one night
to be able to lay near you,
to feel your chest rise and fall
with each breath you take,
just to know that you are real?

Have I ever told you
that I dream of you often,
I dream of you reaching out
and touching my hand,
simply to let me know
that you are there,
and everything is okay?

Have I ever told you,
have I still yet to tell you ...
that I love you?
Anonymous

The Gap, Australia

#4627 Dec 5, 2012
For the Man with the Erection Lasting More than Four Hours........

He's supposed to call his doctor,
but for now he's the May King with his own Maypole.

He's hallelujah.

He's glory hole.

The world has more women than he can shake his stick at.

The world is his brickbat, no conscience to prick at, all of you Germans he can "ich lieber dich" at.

He's Dick and Jane. He's Citizen Kane. He's Bob Dole.

He's Peter the Great. He's a czar. He's a clown car with an extra car.

Funiculi, Funicula. He's an organ donor.

He works pro boner. He's folderol.

He's fiddlesticks.

He's the light left on at Motel 6.

He's free-for-alls.

He's Viagra Falls.

He's bangers and mash. He's balderdash.

He's a wanker.

He's got his own anchor.

He's whack-a-doodle. King Canoodle.

He's a pirate, Long John Silver, walking his own plank.

He has science to thank.

He's in like Flynn.

He's Gunga Din, holding his breath,
cock of the walk through the valley of the shadow of death.

He's Icarus, hickory dickorous, the mouse run up the clock.

He's shock and awe.

He's Arkansas.....Fort Smith hold 'em Hotel

He's the package, the deal, the Good Housekeeping Seal.

He's Johnson and Johnson.

He's a god now, the talk of the town.

He's got no place to go but down.
Anonymous

The Gap, Australia

#4628 Dec 5, 2012
So taste
as day
rearranges the red
and orange flowers
from tongue to tongue
like losing the cymbal's
clang for all its glints
we crept behind the moon
which always insists
on sleeping over
barely a belly for a mouth
an hour past the movie
we were still filming
the way food fills
each curving lapse
between your teeth
or song
in sheets
against the windshield
no one believes
air is the enemy
so don't be afraid
to breathe all this speech
someone already died to say
the moon is on the couch
so we climb onto the roof
where our bellies swell open
to slosh and go flowers
red and orange flowers
hairy and pink-stemmed
like champagne flutes
we always overuse
everything that
happens happens
wrong if not
by tongue's might
in the little time
left before sun drives
all the workers into work
and the dawn into dusk....
Anonymous

The Gap, Australia

#4629 Dec 5, 2012
Say what you will, drawing the shape of your lover on the wall is no easy task when she’s lying on the same bed as you. Even with her chalk in hand, the young girl hates to let go of him, and still enfolds him in one of her arms.

On top of that, the boy keeps moving: he bothers her, he distracts her, he makes her forget her work. And so the lamp placed behind the bed casts shadows of them both on the beautiful blank expanse—outlandish shadows that never stop shifting.

In such utter disarray, try if you can to trace the curve of a shoulder on the faintly dimpled whitewash, with no more than a piece of chalk.

This explains the future history of drawing, otherwise impossible to grasp. The daughter of the Corinthian potter attempts to sketch quickly, wedding her stroke to this silhouette which means a shoulder—or a hip, for all I know.

But in fact her line veers away from the contour, plunges into the shadow’s heart and lingers there; it emerges only with regret, pursued by a thought that seems hard to shake off.

Instead of proceeding toward the arm—this raised arm, this hand held out as if to touch the image on the nearby wall—she who merely wanted to master a line is now drawing ... what?

A sort of tree, branches that fork in all directions, numberless birds that fly through a storm-swept sky, with a gamut of feeble cries.

Her sole intent was to remember a shape. And she finds herself imagining, feeling, dreaming ... yes, how wonderful, for a moment. The entire history of drawing, and even that of painting, will derive from this.

But she has to get back to work; she’s pressed for time. Soon he will be leaving, and the girl wants so much to store up her memory of him.“Please, don’t move any more!”

Come now ... He takes the hands of this budding artist in his own and gently pries her fingers apart. He sets the stub of chalk on the nearby table—that table where through the centuries, the lamp burns on........

Anonymous

The Gap, Australia

#4630 Dec 5, 2012
Grass burns with the backward heat
of snow. The street a white flag
unfurled as far as my eye knows.

Surrender, as it comes, comes
zipped in pillow feathers,
in sheepskin. Its animal suit

tracks prints across the lawn.
Beyond the bend all banks are blank,
all blanks are blankets,

which makes a bank of snow
a sort of bed.
All day your boots run down my steps

while sleds ditch kids
and carry on.
My small yard is bloomless

where I haven’t left the house in days,
a perfection I could angel in,
admit to my clothes and lie still

as snow melts the path
your mouth made of my neck
an hour ago.
Anonymous

The Gap, Australia

#4631 Dec 5, 2012
It’s getting dark.

And in the west somebody’s foot has tipped
over a wine jug, pouring it all over the horizon.

The new moon looks like the horns of the helmet in which Moses appears in movies.

Pines smell
of lemons and incense mingled.

A soldier, tall and brittle like a rye stalk, is doing sentry duty.

Brittle with love and youth. He pulls out of his bosom a woman’s white blouse.....and plunges his face in it.

He drinks its scent. Those five or six grams of fabric he could pull through a wedding ring.

A sight divinely indescribable.

Explaining it in words would be like measuring the weight of a sun’s ray on a scale.

Suddenly, because of all this—the wine-colored west, the new moon with horns, the woman’s tiny blouse whose scent, like a thread, can lead you out of hell.....

Suddenly, because of this, I feel my soul relieved,
more at ease with the world.

You know that war still exists on earth like a black ball of yarn, but the soul can play with it like a kitten.

Death still shows through, not like the blunt-nosed
skull gaping through the skin of the face,

but like a seed through a grape:

making it more magical.
Anonymous

The Gap, Australia

#4632 Dec 5, 2012
He knows how to hold her
Pure spirits in diamond stars
He gathers her into radiance as she sleeps
And quietly looks into her eyes
Free from earth and atmosphere
Rotation of blues and greens
Weight

All of this remains unseen
As if they are two twin pearls ripe and warm
Claimed in a secret shell
A single heart devoured in the ocean's depth of cream

Sometimes he just holds her
Within the understood margins of friendship
And other times, permitting the helpless voltage of love
He removes her troublesome clothes.
Anonymous

The Gap, Australia

#4633 Dec 5, 2012
It's been so long since I've had a bath
Where bubbles break up like clouds
And a black swan meanders across
Threads through lovely blossoms
As I speak to scrabbling goldfish
Which I dropped beneath translucent veils long ago.

I've been taking showers by necessity
Because I have no tub
For there's no imagination in a shower
In which to immerse one's fantasies in bubbles
(Oh, Isn't this a ludicrous poem?).

Sitting within the strong beast of cleansing water and perfumed diversion
In positions compromised guiding bubbles into places and feeling no shame
I have memories as a sea captainesse sitting in the Welsh waters of my lineage
The North Sea surrounding my post-derriere.

And there, the parts of a life one regrets
The ones where it would only hurt to speak the words
Sink drowsily into denial until one spreads out to dry
A mermaid on passels of sand
Lonely and cold once more.
Anonymous

The Gap, Australia

#4634 Dec 5, 2012
Reality is
one beer
after another
on a lonesome
lonesome night
reality is
the cold hard
surface of concrete
reality is
the machinations
of global companies
reality is
the acquisition of money
to protect from the impotence
of poverty
reality is
hell alive and kicking
on earth
reality is
the abandonment of morality
intelligence and reason
reality is
governments devoted to
control of its citizens
reality is
knowing your vote doesn't count
because all parties are
obeying the same master
reality is
realising power will always be
in the hands of the rich
as it always has been
reality is
a guy from a small town
who is not going to make it

reality puts wind
in the sails
of romantic optimism

I watch it float away
Anonymous

The Gap, Australia

#4635 Dec 5, 2012
She said divorce
was her idea and that
they'd been together
twenty years
she said she wanted
a new life

now she's online
chatting to guys like me
who want to know

what she's wearing
how big her titties are
does she swallow
has she got any 'pictures'
is it still tight

and after
short conversations
following a few texts
she'll be meeting guys
maybe married guys
just strangers
who have wooed her
with lies
who only want
to fuck her
in an inexpensive
hotel room
and then leave
as soon
as they can

the memory of
her happiness
on her wedding day
forgotten
as she starts her
new life

Level 6

Since: Apr 12

Location hidden

#4636 Dec 5, 2012
Very nice
Anonymous

The Gap, Australia

#4637 Dec 5, 2012
There are dogs with human voices,
birds that never fly
clawing beneath ice
of a frozen lake.

Sometimes a white sheet is nothing,
a stone that presents no heart.

Yet, in this draping appears
a soft growth, delicate push,
a gentle arc

that says what is missing
is only a weapon, and only a weapon
has something hollow in the heart.

It takes only a scissors edge
to free angel or ghost, who all need
the same little holes for eyes.

Hear the hush ventriloquism.

In circles, minute echoes
of a little boy's smile
there is a distance,

a short cut through the mess.
The white horizon as ladder
to climb over a space
between stiff limbs.

Such profiles turn gently in the light,
palming a little girl's face
for some peace of circumference,

the long way around the problem.
A breath
leading in and out
of the snow,
footprints that really go somewhere.

There is a point where a circle
becomes imperfect,

where it cannot, on its own,
imagine life or death,

a hole so large
direction fails to appear curved.

Hear their hushed ventriloquism

determined towards a silhouette
they think appears
only behind them,

that the body is not a weapon
they throw themselves upon
with each step.
Anonymous

The Gap, Australia

#4638 Dec 5, 2012
There is no clean way
to open a new wing with a blade,
no pure vein cut
to starve the body
from its tomb.

*

Bending in half
is a leaning towards flying.

*

When you meet your equal,
there is a wedding

to better heed the sheets
your feelings draw pictures on.

*

When you meet your twin,
there is a funeral
in your palms,

to set sail the boats
that stare into sunsets, first kisses,
and conversations,

should some of these things
seem too sad.

*

Neither have a center
to Heaven or Hell.

*
Direction cannot make a valley
that is not at the same time
an unseen mountain.

*

Everyone a cupboard, an open grave.
Everyone a nest, an upright urn
waiting to hold the trajectory
of both the living and the dead.

*

Those who recognize this love
begin with the pure sound
of a train in the distance,

forming it into a butterfly
weeping in an hourglass

or a paper box, feeding its own flame.

*

Those who fall in love first
only hear the rains fingers,
smoothing out the lines
and furrows of their lives.

For to see each drop

*

making a way
where the other could never follow
is impossible.

*

Until it is winter,
and the rain unfolds
their parachutes,

*

softly and simply.

PESCreate

“Just a lil' humor there.....”

Since: Sep 12

OR NOT .... <[;-)

#4639 Dec 5, 2012
Knight DeVine wrote:
She said divorce
was her idea and that
they'd been together
twenty years
she said she wanted
a new life
now she's online
chatting to guys like me
who want to know
what she's wearing
how big her titties are
does she swallow
has she got any 'pictures'
is it still tight
and after
short conversations
following a few texts
she'll be meeting guys
maybe married guys
just strangers
who have wooed her
with lies
who only want
to [email protected] her
in an inexpensive
hotel room
and then leave
as soon
as they can
the memory of
her happiness
on her wedding day
forgotten
as she starts her
new life
Some of it is distasteful for some.
Don't read it.
Stay out of his threads with your HATE.
Just sayin'.
Your HATE is who You are -- Stop judging
The MAN.

GET OVER IT already and move on.
PEACE

Hello Knight DeVine
I wish you well.
:)
Trish
Anonymous

The Gap, Australia

#4640 Dec 5, 2012
It was a spring day, a day for a lay, when the air
Smelled like a locker-room, a day to blow or get blown;
Returning from lunch I turned my corner and there
On a near-by stoop I saw him standing alone.


I glanced as I advanced. The clean white T-shirt outlined
A forceful torso, the light-blue denims divulged
Much. I observed the snug curves where they hugged the behind,
I watched the crotch where the cloth intriguingly bulged.


Our eyes met. I felt sick. My knees turned weak.
I couldn't move. I didn't know what to say.
In a blur I heard words, myself like a stranger speak
"Will you come to my room?" Then a husky voice, "O.K."


I produced some beer and we talked. Like a little boy
He told me his story. Present address: next door.
Half Polish, half Irish. The youngest. From Illinois.
Profession: mechanic. Name: Bud. Age: twenty-four.


He put down his glass and stretched his bare arms along
The back of my sofa. The afternoon sunlight struck
The blond hairs on the wrist near my head. His chin was strong.
His mouth sucky. I could hardly believe my luck.


And here he was sitting beside me, legs apart.
I could bear it no longer. I touched the inside of his thigh.
His reply was to move closer. I trembled, my heart
Thumped and jumped as my fingers went to his fly.


I opened a gap in the flap. I went in there.
I sought for a slit in the gripper shorts that had charge
Of the basket I asked for. I came to warm flesh then to hair.
I went on. I found what I hoped. I groped. It was large.


He responded to my fondling in a charming, disarming way:
Without a word he unbuckled his belt while I felt.
And lolled back, stretching his legs. His pants fell away.
Carefully drawing it out, I beheld what I held.


The circumcised head was a work of mastercraft
With perfectly beveled rim of unusual weight
And the friendliest red. Even relaxed, the shaft
Was of noble dimensions with the wrinkles that indicate


Singular powers of extension. For a second or two,
It lay there inert, then suddenly stirred in my hand,
Then paused as if frightened or doubtful of what to do.
And then with a violent jerk began to expand.

By soundless bounds it extended and distended, by quick
Great leaps it rose, it flushed, it rushed to its full size.
Nearly nine inches long and three inches thick,
A royal column, ineffably solemn and wise.


I tested its length and strength with a manual squeeze.
I bunched my fingers and twirled them about the knob.
I stroked it from top to bottom. I got on my knees.
I lowered my head. I opened my mouth for the job.


But he pushed me gently away. He bent down. He unlaced
His shoes. He removed his socks. Stood up. Shed
His pants altogether. Muscles in arms and waist
Rippled as he whipped his T-shirt over his head.


I scanned his tan, enjoyed the contrast of brown
Trunk against white shorts taut around small
Hips. With a dig and a wriggle he peeled them down.
I tore off my clothes. He faced me, smiling. I saw all.


The gorgeous organ stood stiffly and straightly out
With a slight flare upwards. At each beat of his heart it threw
An odd little nod my way. From the slot of the spout
Exuded a drop of transparent viscous goo.


The lair of hair was fair, the grove of a young man,
A tangle of curls and whorls, luxuriant but couth.
Except for a spur of golden hairs that fan
To the neat navel, the rest of the belly was smooth........
Anonymous

The Gap, Australia

#4641 Dec 5, 2012
Well hung, slung from the fork of the muscular legs,
The firm vase of his sperm, like a bulging pear,
Cradling its handsome glands, two herculean eggs,
Swung as he came towards me, shameless, bare.


We aligned mouths. We entwined. All act was clutch,
All fact contact, the attack and the interlock
Of tongues, the charms of arms. I shook at the touch
Of his fresh flesh, I rocked at the shock of his cock.


Straddling my legs a little I inserted his divine
Person between and closed on it tight as I could.
The upright warmth of his belly lay all along mine.
Nude, glued together for a minute, we stood.


I stroked the lobes of his ears, the back of his head
And the broad shoulders. I took bold hold of the compact
Globes of his bottom. We tottered. He fell on the bed.
Lips parted, eyes closed, he lay there, ripe for the act.


Mad to be had, to be felt and smelled. My lips
Explored the adorable masculine tits. My eyes
Assessed the chest. I caressed the athletic hips
And the slim limbs. I approved the grooves of the thighs.


I hugged, I snuggled into an armpit. I sniffed
The subtle whiff of its tuft. I lapped up the taste
Of its hot hollow. My fingers began to drift
On a trek of inspection, a leisurely tour of the waist.


Downward in narrowing circles they playfully strayed.
Encroached on his privates like poachers, approached the prick,
But teasingly swerved, retreated from meeting. It betrayed
Its pleading need by a pretty imploring kick.


"Shall I rim you?" I whispered. He shifted his limbs in assent.
Turned on his side and opened his legs, let me pass
To the dark parts behind. I kissed as I went
The great thick cord that ran back from his balls to his arse.


Prying the buttocks aside, I nosed my way in
Down the shaggy slopes. I came to the puckered goal.
It was quick to my licking. He pressed his crotch to my chin.
His thighs squirmed as my tongue wormed in his hole.


His sensations yearned for consummation. He untucked
His legs and lay panting, hot as a teen-age boy.
Naked, enlarged, charged, aching to get sucked,
Clawing the sheet, all his pores open to joy.


I inspected his erection. I surveyed his parts with a stare
From scrotum level. Sighting along the underside
Of his cock, I looked through the forest of pubic hair
To the range of the chest beyond rising lofty and wide.


I admired the texture, the delicate wrinkles and the neat
Sutures of the capacious bag. I adored the grace
Of the male genitalia. I raised the delicious meat
Up to my mouth, brought the face of its hard-on to my face.


Slipping my lips round the Byzantine dome of the head,
With the tip of my tongue I caressed the sensitive groove.
He thrilled to the trill. "That's lovely!" he hoarsely said.
"Go on! Go on!" Very slowly I started to move....

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