Since the day of her birth, he vowed to find the perfect day to share with her a place that always brought him back down to earth. A place of … Continue reading Sun Kissed Morning
Dont lose Yourself to fools Whose attitude Is to use Man made tools Measuring what they couldn’t accomplish In school -SpKn
Thanksgiving still hung in the crisp cold air. Voices escaped from behind closed doors, chimneys puffed into the night sky. Macaroni and cheese, yams, something a little burnt—stuffing maybe. The aromas struck his nose as familiar, minus the burnt tinge affectingthe air. A warm feeling flooded his soul as he thought of the joy each home must have been filled with the day prior. He wondered if each dwelling was packed tight like sardines.
His footsteps fell hard on cold concrete—it felt different than in the summer. Not that it was any softer, but maybe, slightly quieter. A few other unfamiliar faces were out milling about; he was just glad to be out on this crisp night, even if he was only walking to the supermarket down the street. Hands shoved in coat pockets, keenly alert of all around him, he took in the beauty of the moon, her fullness and intensity.
Her breath quickened. At the table with friends, boldly his hand rested between her thighs. He could feel the heat emanating from her delicate flower. “Hey, Felicia, how did that project…” she took a deep breath as his hand now began massaging her most private place. “Um, ooh, yeah um how did that project work out for you?” Felicia began describing the ups and downs of a budget crisis at her job while Denise’s friend continued his game.
Leaning over she whispered seductively, “You have no idea what you are doing.” Rob stopped. “Meet me upstairs in the bathroom.” She excused herself. Moments later Rob’s phone rang, “Yeah sure, uh, I’ll be right there. Hey guys, um, I’m going to go check on Denise, she said she’s not feeling well.”
“Oh no, is she ok?” Carol asked.
“She said she was feeling hot all over,” Rob smirked. Once upstairs he closed the door to the bathroom. “Fuck me, right now!” Their lips met violently as Rob slid his hands under skirt moving her thong out of the way. “Turn around,” he said aggressively, pushing her over the sink.
Rob shoved himself into her sex with force, causing a hungry groan to slip through her delicate lips. “This feels so good, but its not good,” Denise panted. Rob knew what she was referring to, but neither one of them was willing to stop. “Do it, go head baby.” She could tell he was close. With their friends downstairs, Rob grunted and convulsed, pumping his friend with his seed. “Splash some water on your face,” and back downstairs they went, his cum dripping into her already damp underwear.
“Hey girl, are you ok?”
“Oh, yes, now I am. Rob helped me cool off.”
I am finally alone and in my head. Like looking around a room with familiar walls but unfamiliar furnishings. I do not know these thoughts. This is my space, I should feel at home instead of a lost voyager drowning in a sea of unspoken creativity.
It is a stuffy place to be, with no mirrors to show reflections of me, no windows to let in what I need to breathe. How can this be? Who took an ax to the root(s) of my tree—I had named her Life and Longevity.
I want to tell you world, that I turned 32 today, but no leaves of reflection can fall, this breeze sneaking through my window, tickling my toes, melodies cascading through my headphones—yeah I am 32 today, and for the first time in quite a while I am in my dome, reshuffling, reclaiming it as my own.
In the midnight rain
Fast feet stepped and
To blue notes.
Wind whipping through
Wet hair clasped
Around bare throats.
Dancing feet reacquainted
With the concrete
Under a tearful sky
Sharing her sorrow
But only at midnight.
I’m here, I made it. I could clock in early and start my day. After Friday’s episode I have a lot of apprehension. So I sit and stare at this cup of coffee, half decaf, half regular because the regular side of the machine gave me watery brown liquid unworthy to be called coffee.
In 3 minutes I’ll punch the clock. I’ll take this medication for my anxiety and hope today goes way better than Friday.
Three minutes-today’s menu is simple. Hot dogs, baked beans, sauerkraut. Breakfast isn’t too bad either.
Two minutes- in the back of my mind I am worried about what my coworkers will think, I shouldn’t
One minute- I am waiting to hear some news, I have been checking my email more frequently than usual. I need to take this medication, my anxiety is starting to flare.
Times up, I have to go for now.
Here I am, fourteen minutes before my shift starts. The hum of soda machines envelope me in sweet noise. I turned off the blasted blaring TV just to have a few moments to write… I have had so many creative ideas these last few weeks but I have been preoccupied. These glaring florescent lights irritate me… but they are on some some sort of a motion detector. This morning’s breakfast consists of scrapple, donuts, scrambled eggs, and oatmeal. Lunch is bbq chicken potato salad, and I don’t know what else.
As I write my mind keeps traveling to my wife. She is so beautiful. We had a baby free weekend last week and it was the best feeling in the world to laugh and just be our old crazy selves again. I cant get the sensation of caressing her brown skin out of my mind… I sure hope today goes by quickly, her soft lips have me even more distracted.
Its 5:23, technically I can clock in and start my day. Should I? Or should I write for another seven minutes. Sometimes (as much as I hate it) I’ll post from my phone just for the sake of placing meaningful words together(also to put a post up if it’s been a while). I usually write my poems down in a composition book, then type them up, proofread them and such, then post. Now all I’m thinking about is the lady of my life and that sexy outfit she had on yesterday.
It is almost that time-four more minutes until I am a slave once again to the demands of the man(not necessarily any white pereon, just the boss). Three more until I begin to sweat and my mind checks out of the Warm and Fuzzy Hotel and into madness… cooking can be that way sometimes. I cook for over 100 residents… It is 5:29, I must go now. Tell my wife I love her, I’ll be thinking of her and tell…..
The housewarming had ended, Kevin was coming back in from escorting the last guests to their cars. He was in search of Casey, his wife. Her back was to him in their new kitchen.
“Mmhm, look at this here hot sexy lady of mine!” He exclaimed in his big booming voice. He walked up and wrapped his arms around her from behind. He kissed her neck, “You smell good, you look good,” his hands began roaming, caressing her waist, her thighs. The jean skirt and wife beater she wore had him hot for her all evening. Twice he caught her bending over showing off her ample cleavage and he had to fight the urge to give his guests a show. Now was his chance. He loved that about Casey, she could communicate her need/want for him with such confidence no matter who was around.
Casey playfully tried to get him to stop, but his hands on her breasts felt amazing, and the throbbing of his manhood pressed against had her warm and moist. “Mm, baby, Darlene, she’s still here, she’s…” Kevin cut her off, his hand was now between her legs, rubbing with love and passion at her clit, “Shh, don’t worry about her.” His breath was hot and heavy. Casey knew he possibly had a few too many beers, but she also knew she wore this outfit for this very purpose.
Darlene had come down from the bathroom just in time to hear Kevin tell his wife not to worry about her. Just in time to see him pull all eight inches of his magnificent cock out of his pants. Casey was bent down on the table, her right leg up on it, her skirt pulled over her ass. She gasped, but apparently neither of them heard her. She just stood there, watching. She watched as Kevin began to inch his way inside of her friend, she listened as Casey moaned.
“Ugh, baby girl you feel so good, I swear I didn’t think I’d make it till the guests left!” Kevin’s hands massaged his wife’s shoulders as he began to stroke her love canal. “Damn babe, you’re soaked!” Casey moaned, she had been wanting him all evening. She knew the shorts she picked out for him showed off his package, but she didn’t care, she liked to show him off in that manner. She was always certain to take care of him. She saw how some of the other women looked at and even flirted with him. It made her hot to watch. But now, here she was bent over the table, she had to put her leg back down, her husband deep inside her, moans growing louder, she was on the verge.
Darlene began to get wet. Shit! She thought, I shouldn’t be here! I need to go sit outside… but she couldn’t. Her friend’s body was amazing, and her friend’s husband seemed to know how to work it. She and her husband never did anything so bold, so uncouth, so disgusting. The kitchen table, of all places, with a guest still in the—Darlene’s hand was in her pants, rubbing aggressively at her clit. Casey had taken off her top, her bare breasts bounced back and forth as she pushed her hips back into her husband’s. “Fuuckk! Give it to me babe! Fuck me! Harder!!” Darlene’s other hand went up her shirt and she began to roll a nipple. To her utter amazement, Kevin stopped his pounding and turned Casey around. She sat up on the table and he got down on his knees. What he did next sent Darlene’s head spinning.
Kevin’s tongue danced with Casey’s clit. First he back to gently suck and slup. Casey waited anxiously for what was next. Boom!!! She exploded, gushing violently as her husband’s tongue worked a figure eight then dove inside of her. She gripped the sides of the table so hard the brown skin on her knuckles began to flush.
Darlene’s hands moved faster, harder. She knew they weren’t done. Kevin stood up and entered Casey again, giving her no time to recover. Casey tingled all over, sweat began to bead around her hair line, matting down her hair down. Kevin picked her up causing Casey to cry out as all of him abruptly disappeared deep inside.
Darlene was jealous. Watching her best friend get fucked this way, she only wished she and her husband could break out of their constraints, be this—this bold, this wild. She found herself being jealous of the tool that was bounding her friend into oblivion, wishing her husband was as hung, as creative. Her breath quickened. Fuck! She thought, I can’t let this go standing here in their new home. But she did, she bit her lip as an orgasm ripped her body apart. She almost collapsed, but she regained her composure and hobbled back into the family room.
From there Darlene listened as her friend Casey was fucked for another ten minutes before she heard the most beautiful sound, Kevin moaning and growling. She had decided to go back, and she was just in time to see Casey on her knees, her husband emptying his balls into her mouth. Her dark eyes glittered with pleasure as she looked up at him.
Darlene didn’t realize how exposed she was. Casey happened to glance over and see her, standing there. Their eyes met, and she displayed her salty treat to Kevin, driving him wild as she played with his creamy gift of protein, she smiled with pride and joy at her friend, who sheepishly blushed and backed away.
Darlene went back to the couch, hot, bothered, and embarrassed. She texted her husband Darren hoping he was close.
I love to write. I have come to realize that I enjoy writing love/erotica poems and short stories. But, I spend so much time trying not to offend those who may come across my page and say, well he seems like a Christian, but his content doesn’t reflect Christ/Christian values.
The truth is, when people come to this page, my desire is that they sense that I write what comes naturally. That which comes naturally to me, I write with conviction. My words are hand selected from the dictionary/thesaurus in an attempt to move the reader, allowing them to taste a bit of their own fantasies without being overly vulgar. That is the joy I get out of writing erotica, building up a suspense with creative language that moves the reader without them walking away feeling dirty, horny maybe, but not dirty.
So I will be posting from time to time some things that move you the reader–I will always continue to be tasteful, but I am too old not to be true to myself and my creative convictions.