Category Archives: Wicked Wednesday

My love life isn’t black and white
(Are most people’s this way?)
It’s nuanced, and it covers
more than 50 shades of grey.

Sometimes I’m rather kinky
and dressed up in tight black leather,
I want to feel your paddle hit or
sometimes a long feather.

Tied down and spread, I’m open for
your tongue against my clit,
The thrusting of your hard cock
thrills me more than I’ll admit.

Sometimes I want to be alone
so I can masturbate.
And whether that’s with toys or not
is not up for debate.

I want to fuck myself as only
I know how to do,
And make myself cum rapidly
Or slowly (love that too).

Sometimes I want to make love
all the day and all the night,
To wrap your arms around me,
Snuggling close so it feels right.

I want to love you gently and
then ride you till you we cum,
To keep you close beside me
Till as one we do become.

Add into all this feelings
That I have and can’t control,
They batter at my mind and
try to rip apart my soul.

I want to share the love I feel
With those that love me too,
And share it in the open
Let that love widen and break through.

 

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A voyage heavy with wonder…
Excitement…
No Trepidition
of what would be.

Lovers enchanted…
Dancing…
Kissing
while watching the sea.

Making love in their cabin…
Sweetly…
Deeply
looking in each other’s eyes.

Would either survive…
Clinging…
Hoping
not to die but to thrive.

 

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The woman walked through the gallery
Admiring  the art that she did see.
When suddenly she stopped in shock
And paused her afternoon art walk.

For hanging there upon the wall
A portrait that was seen by all,
Enclosed in an ornate silver frame
A picture of immense acclaim.

She pursed her lips and viewed the scene
Of a nude girl who seemed to preen.
As she bent over, let’s be frank,
She had a firm, round ass to spank.

And wearing only high black boots
That accentuated firm, toned glutes,
She waited patiently for him
To strike her upturned ass again.

The elder woman gave a chuckle
Chewing on her ungloved knuckle
Staring at the painting fraught
With sexuality not forgot.

She caught my eye and chuckled more
I thought her knuckle must be sore
And I decided I must ask
What she found shocking, yet a gas.

“The painting doesn’t shock per se,”
She told me in her quiet way.
“What shocked me was I saw it here.
I haven’t seen it in many a year.”

Confusion covered up my face,
She touched my hand and closed the space.
“You see,” she said, with a bit of glee,
“That woman in the painting’s me.”

I couldn’t quite hide my surprise,
And looking deep into my eyes
She nodded, blushed, and said “It’s true,
I wonder if you wished it you.”

And all that I could do was nod,
And smile at her, as I was awed.
I didn’t have much more to say,
So I stepped back and walked away.

I left her lost in reverie
Reliving a good memory.
Her spirit lifted for the day,
And I hoped it would stay that way.

 

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