Did you prefer me in a mask
or with my lived-in face revealed?
My hooded eye, my crooked nose
cracked lips and worn down snaggled teeth
Was it better with illusion?
Would you choose and even covet
views of artful, crafted fabric –
or touch reality’s drab shades?
Eyes are glowing green
Woman of – and to – desire
Curves to stripe and warm
Augen leuchten grün
Weib von – und zu – begehren
Kurven für streifen
Filling touch with invitation ~
Filled with stomach-high anxiety.
Filled with desire, to sate the unmasked void
Filled by surrender of control
Filled with tightness; breached by lust
Overtopped and wanting more
Filled with passive-sub arousal
Filled with gasps and grind; Oh my!
Filled and shaken by emotions
Filled with lubricant and seed
Full, before the aftermath…
Dressed for Zoom. Staring in blank, thinking of encounters…
To feel your core across my thighs;
To heat your cheeks: exposed, opened,
stroked and striped, reddened in the air;
To see your beauty kneeling down;
To hold your head against my groin,
exalting what the other gives;
A forge for memories to bond
like flakes of amber pressed in trust,
borrowed against our other lives;
Encounters, that touch on something more ~
Darf ich würdig sein
der Herrin – dein Macht ich dien –
Gnade erfahren?
Sheer desire! Fine denier and vibrancy unbound;
blue eyes, smooth skin, on such a slender frame;
lithe and trans and femme, beyond the north horizon…
Long legs that stretch to heaven – or at least your groin:
your rampant shaft, your heavy balls, your peachy cheeks
and secret puckered rose, aching to be filled…
What would it take to touch you; bring you joy?
To undress you? To reach you; satisfy your dreams?
Even develop and enhance your mysteries?
The social wheel keeps turning: waxing is in vogue
so these are easy times to praise the smooth;
but we belong here too, we are human to the core…
Individuals.
We are different, even from the different:
a minority, scattered on the littoral
beyond the margins of the pale…
Incongruous?
Defiant in our pride, we flaunt our adult bodies:
our fineries, our primal coverings of hair,
as we dress to draw desire, in gorgeous lingerie…
Attraction!
During darker nights, my pelt will heat my blood
while restless dreams – of stroking yours, my dear –
fuel embers into flames; of lust, for nature’s way…
Unveiled.
A tart without a heart, worn dry, weighed down by drag;
who claims to be professional, but is bereft
of honesty, or any whore’s pretence. A denizen
of sauna rooms, crawled briefly from the sleaze
that festers, nsa, among darker corners;
thinking that the light would help…
A slut who flaunts their shrivelled clit
and claims their arse is tight; who talks and talks
of sex and pops, and throngs of sordid meets…
They look convincing at first pass – but artifice is thin:
that wilting skin is rough, the jaw too strong, their eyes hollow
like an excuse, a disappointment in a dress…
Her virtue has been easy, used
by her and others as a shortcut to a woman:
as she herself describes, with talent, craft and humour,
brought to bear on glorious debauchery;
The cover skills of artifice – nails and cosmetics,
heels and hosiery and lingerie, perfume –
each one has been applied with tender care
as temple gifts to raw and ravishing desire;
In creating skin-deep beauty she portrays
the surface of a woman, dressed to please herself;
an illusion that reflects – to illustrate the fire,
the feminine, that burns and shines inside.
She spoke to me quite openly, about aspects of her life
and episodes…
Sometimes I met her eyes, sometimes her eyes looked down
in hesitance…
We’d kissed. I’d held her hands, and helped her with her dress –
the zip was kind…
Her oral skills were wonderful, at least as good as mine:
hungry; practiced…
Her touch was soft, her body firm. I actively adored her slender frame…
We promised more
explosive exploration; while traceries of sound, of painted filaments
connected us…
Our lives just touched, briefly ~ rich lives, we’ve led in parallel ~
with benefits…
Maintain the Advance! 