sex

LONG AGO

The show's not over
till the fat lady snores,
I should know,
I was there, 1973  
or 74 and Mahler
still playing
on her Hi-Fi,
the last movement
of the Ist symphony.

 

We liked that, made
love to it, wondering
what Gustav
would have made
of that, the fat dame
and me, empty
whiskey glasses
on the table, curtains
drawn against
the night sky and moon.

 

The first time
she snored,
her soft whiskey breath,
her globes caught
in moon's glow,
her closed eyes
like upturned shells.

 

Her Scottish tongue
soft but sharp, her
flab sufficient
to keep warm
if needed,
but it was along ago,
she's gone now,
so I heard, my fat
dame lover, my sex
making love bird.

View dadio's Full Portfolio

MILKA TOUCHED.

Milka touched
Benedict
on the arm

 

her fingers
running down
to his hand

 

Benedict
touched Milka
on her thigh

 

his fingers
running up
to her sex

 

their lips met
hot kisses
wet tonguing

 

both eyes closed
his fingers
making play

 

her fingers
tickling
his open palm

 

she thinking
dream like things
wedding bells

 

wedding rings
he thinking
fingers warm

 

entering
opened her
like flower

 

in spring time
her beauty
undone him

 

sucked him dry
she asked him
her questions

 

like girls do
he answered
one word why?

 

View dadio's Full Portfolio

Vibrations on A Hardwood Floor

 
 
He told me his fingers could get trapped in my roots.
And he wasn’t speaking of my family tree.
I was his sugar rum cherry
 Syrupy treat
 And so bitter sweet.
He said I spoke in verse
and giggled in rhyme.
 He said I reminded him of a tune
Too elusive to recall.
 My body was inspiration
 that he could not transcribe.
 So he made it a point to
Commit me
in all my dimensions
to memory.
Incre((mentally))
He became trapped in these roots.
Just as  I feared.
I was his a-
His a(hhh)
His af(firmation)
 His Afr(ica)
His afro
Afro-disiac.
Damn.
 
By Ayesha K. Faines copyright 2007

ODE TO MY FATHER.

ODE TO MY FATHER.

     

If I was your son, I be your seed,

The one who let me out to this world,

If I was a punch, I would choose the one,

You gave to my pregnant mother,

If I was the traumatise child,

I would be the one listening his mother screams,

If you were holding the metal belt,

I would be the kid with the scare,

If you was the one broking glass on the floor,

I was the one walking bare feet upon it,

If there was a closest,

I was the one hiding inside it,

If was an beaten puppy with metal bar,

I was the son force to watched it,

If I was the man who was pushing his wife by the window,

I was the small child, weeping for help,

If I was the man scalping your mother,

I was the one holding the knife,

If I was the son of the woman begging for help,

I was the one ready to push the blade inside you,

If I had follow your path,

I was the animal trap in your cage,

If your were my father,

I would have stop drinking myself to death,

If you were my blood and flesh,

I am glad you took your delirium six foot’s under,

If I had a choice,

I wish, we could had the chance to spoke once,

If I could turn the clock,

I would tell you, I had long forgave you,

If you can hear me from above,

I was simply telling you, I love you dad.

                      COPYRIGHT@H.NAUDET.2014

Author's Notes/Comments: 

I KNOW HOW HUNGRY U ARE? HERE U ARE ? TAKE A BITE AT ME? KISS ME OR TAKE ME ALL, I FOR GOT U I AM. TOO MANY HANDS OVER ME .....

SOPHIA AND SEX

Sophia was out of luck
if she thought Benedict
was going to fall for that
that mid morning fuck

 

and on
old Mr Atkinson's bed
(how he liked
his Wagner)

 

creeping up
on him like that
grabbing him
around the waist

 

and pushing him
to the bed
and saying
O come on

 

just a quickie for me
(Polish accent
not shown here)
no no

 

he said
not here and now
I’ve jobs to do
baths to attend to

 

old men
to get ready
and she lay over him
spread out on him

 

her bulging breasts
kind of pinning him down
but it is my birthday
she said

 

it is good to do
the unexpected
now and then
her breath smelt

 

of peppermint
her body
eased on him deeper
he kept his hands

 

away from her
at his sides
best he could
all temptations

 

held in check
you can do
what you like
she said

 

good then
let me go
and I’ll go run
some baths

 

he said
anyway
it's near morning
coffee break

 

I need my fill
of coffee
you could take me here
she said

 

from the front or rear
no no
he said
trying to get off

 

the bed
his hands attempting
to push her off
touching her body

 

soft and supple
her breast touched
accidentally
what if I scream out

 

and say you tried
to have me?
she said
go ahead

 

he said
 they know me
they know
you're always after me

 

I’ll say you tried
to have me here
on Mr Atkinson's bed
they believe me

 

she said
I'm the female
go ahead then
scream off your head

 

he said
but she moved off of him
and arranged
her clothes tidily

 

pushed her hair
into shape
and said
I’ll have you next time

 

Benny boy
next time
we have it quick
and on some other bed

 

and he rearranged
his shirt and tie
and watched
as she walked off

 

down the passageway
her fine behind
giving it
that sexy sway.

 

View dadio's Full Portfolio

certified Love

every daythroughout 

I sleep in the bed I've made

my comforter is White

but my sheets are stained in Red

oh, I want your Love

that engulfs me

the smoke matches the rest of my White

melting out

into a sparkling red dress

connected to your Heart

verifying the day

we will meet

again- together

in the Garden

and We will know

the Red was justified

we were meant to Come together.

View talktome's Full Portfolio

WHAT LARA WANTED.

Lara sat
beside him

 

in the old
city of

 

Dubrovnik
sipping wine

 

better than
that coffee

 

you're drinking
is that so

 

he replied
gazing at

 

her beauty
in morning's

 

bright sunlight
yes it's so

 

and what's more
healthier

 

I'm ok
he boasted

 

even though
you kept me

 

from my sleep
with demands

 

for more sex
she sipped wine

 

small finger
sticking out

 

kind of posh
can't keep up?

 

he liked her
long red hair

 

the dark eyes
the red lips

 

sipping wine
the milky

 

coloured tits
yes I can

 

he replied
but she knew

 

that he lied
she had to

 

drag him from
his slumbers

 

wake up his
slack member

 

ease it in
to harbour

 

like a wrecked
old schooner

 

how's your dreams?
about me?

 

he sipped slow
his coffee

 

maybe so
he replied

 

maybe not
but she knew

 

that they were
he called out

 

in his sleep
no more sex

 

Lara dear
as he lay

 

on his back
his eyes closed

 

his member
once more slack

 

he knew it
knew he had

 

dreamed of her
her parted

 

fleshy thighs
and the lips

 

of her fruit
wanting him

 

one more time
more coffee?

 

she asked him
to keep you

 

from slumber?
I'm ok

 

he replied
want more wine?

 

she sipped slow
finger raised

 

not just now
I am fine

 

but she lied
he knew it

 

another night
coming up

 

more wine drunk
more sex talk

 

more kisses
but his mind

 

and member
just ready

 

just waiting
for slumber.

 

View dadio's Full Portfolio

NO REGRETS.

Miryam sits at the bar
sipping a Bacardi,
bumming a smoke
from a packet open
on the bar top.

 

Hear you went
to Fez today,
she says.

 

Yes, it was like
something out
of Bible times,
you say,
camels, donkeys,
people in head gear
and gowns and such.

 

I would have come,
she says,
but I was too
shagged out
after the night before.

 

You eye her,
the tight curly
red hair,
blue eyes,
red lips.

 

I made it ok,
you say.

 

Don't know how,
she says,
you left after I did.

 

And you didn't come in
the tent
for a goodnight
kiss or more,
she adds,
staring at you.

 

Thought moaning Minnie
would be back,
you say.

 

She didn't show
until hours after;
been having it off
with that ex-army guy
of yours.

 

So that’s where
he went,
you say,
taking a quick sip
of your wine.

 

I'd have stayed
if I'd known.

 

Miryam inhales deeply,
then exhales.

Where's Army boy now?
she asks.

 

No idea,
joined the navy
for all I care,
you say.

 

We could now
if you like,
she says.

 

Where?
You take in
her tight blouse,
tight skirt
with a slit
at the side,
showing thigh.

 

One of those
sand dunes,
they're deep enough
to hide us,
she says.

 

Now?
Why not?
What if someone
comes over
and sees us?
They see us.

 

Nothing new
in what we'll be doing.

 

She drains
her Bacardi,
puts the glass down
on the bar top.

 

Well?
Under
the Moroccan sun? 
Either you do
or you don't,
she says,
getting off
the bar stool,
showing more thigh,
slim legs, sandals.

 

You drain your wine,
and follow her
from the bar
of the base camp,
and down
between the tents
and onto the beach
towards the sand dunes.

 

She has a fine sway
of hips, you note
as she walks in front.

 

The sun warms you,
sand beneath
your feet, some one
plays a flute
from across the way,
a voice sings.

 

She finds
a deep sand dune,
and you both
get down inside,
she kisses
straight away,
lips to lips stuff,
tongues,
hands undoing,
and taking
stuff off,
her body drinking
in the sun.

 

You and the pecker,
ready to go,
and the guys
still singing
from the camp,
flute still playing,
and she smells
of sun oil
and Bacardi
and stale
cigarettes,
but its all go
no time
for regrets.

View dadio's Full Portfolio