NaPoWriMo 25: Savor

Take this small bit of chocolate
and hold it on your tongue.
Feel it melt without
swallowing
a single drop
just yet.

Then perhaps you’ll understand
what it means to me
to kiss your inner thighs without
dipping my tongue between them.

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NaPoWriMo 24: Sijo~ Beneath

Hey folks, quick note–

It’s finals time for me, and life is getting desperately busy. I will continue writing, and won’t always get to respond as much to comments, but I read and appreciate every one. Thanks for reading.

~Smithy

——————————————————————————-

Wrapped tight in lace, she knots a mass of curls at the nape of her neck,
applies neat rouge, and smoothes her skirt with slender, polished hands.
Beneath his plug stretches her wide; wetness slicks the inner thigh.

NaPoWriMo 22: Shedding

I am upset, because I am bad at not wanting you.

I have tried, mind you–
New diverting hobbies
Coffee with other people
Sex with other people
Relationships
And all these things I always
eventually
shed like a skin
and my lust for you remains
a constant thriving thing
pulsing warmth into
the new skin growing beneath

I wish I could pinpoint the exact moment
when you sunk to those places inside me
that cannot be removed
without uprooting bits of
attached flesh,
tissues of the deep kind–
not the thin, flimsy layers
I scratch off month by month
while trying to claw down to the itch beneath.

I wish I could
(during our inevitable relapse)
wrap my legs around you
fast enough,
cum around you
tight enough,
that I could hold you within me
and not release you
until you’re willing to dig around
find the wanting you left in me,
and take the goddamn thing with you.

just…

please, please,
I want you
in
or
out
but not this aching thing
in between–
get it out of me

NaPoWriMo 21: Idly wanting

A warm tingle
sparks dully
in my lower abdomen
as I lie on my back,
stare at the ceiling,
and roll a memory
between my back teeth.

My limbs are magnetized by my lethargy.
The ground pulls them.

A finger rubs absently
at the inch below
my waistband.
My hips push slightly upwards,
never leaving the mattress,
hold a moment
and then collapse slow
like a sigh.

I am,
it seems,
too tired
for the vigorous frigging
of masturbation–
though not nearly too tired
to lie back
and idly want you.

NaPoWriMo 19: Morning Glory

Sometimes
as you’re waking
I touch you just this way–
and everything seems to
open

Your lips
eyes
nostril flare
and much lower, here–

–see?
All widening
all receptive

And you can’t seem to take in enough
breath
visual
scent
myself

Greedy one
the only choice you leave
for me, who views you thus
is to fill you over
and over
until you spill