Category Archives: Poetry

Son and Consort

A crisp lavender expanse of down and fluff.

Warmed by body heat and scented like my skin.

A 54×75 sanctuary where my two worlds dream.

Side by side in unwitting repose.

They will never meet here,

Merely know the feel of resting here with me.

I bear lone witness to this strange changing of the guard.

I am the treasure they share.

They each claim a place in my lilac-colored world.

The warm void between sheets the tender turf,

Where my intimacy runs free with Son and Consort.

I am the constant.

I am the Mother-Mistress.

I am the gravity that draws them here.

I am their common ground.

***

You climb into my bed in the wee hours of the morning.

Your warmth seeps into me as you snuggle close.

I can feel a sense of safety fill you as you settle in next to me.

I can feel the pull of my love,

like the gravity of the sun holding my universe together.

I stroke your hair and watch as you breathe deeper, relaxing into my touch.

Remembering many nights together.

The texture of your hair is coarser now.

Not the baby fine silk you had when you were three.

But the feel of it transports me back in time.

To every moment I rocked you to sleep in my arms or held you close to me.

You are my reason, my sanity, my tether to this world.

You are the reason I fight, I strive, I grow.

You are my heart and soul, the definition of my love.

You are my son.

***

I leave the door unlocked for you and climb between scented sheets.

My body tingling, anticipating your touch.

I try to sleep, knowing you are on your way to me.

But I think of your caress and abandon thoughts of rest.

My hands roam my body too hungry to wait for you.

I lose myself in the sea of my own desire.

You open the door and find me in passion’s throes.

A wolfish smile upon your face as your hand replaces mine.

I am shocked back to reality by your kiss.

And delivered to passion once again.

You are the one who stokes my fires, who drives me beyond my brink.

You are my balance, my motivation, my laughter, my release.

You are the visitor that drinks from the wellspring of my heart.

You are my lover.

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Moment of Change – Part Two

Seismic movement happens in waves.  The same can be said of us.  In the first Moment of Change, I prepared to shed you like a skin that no longer fit me.  But now, the earth beneath me has undulated once again.  Where once there was a valley, now a mountain has formed…

Moment of Change – Part Two

I talk a great game.

About living fearlessly; about living with intent.

I pride myself on facing my fears; not letting those fears hold me back.

I am lying to myself.

Your caress has awakened more than just my body.

Your smile has shined light into darkened corners.

As I feel my vulnerability rise up to meet your kiss

So too the fear rises up to meet you.

Still reddened where the wounds of last November flayed me open,

My desperate instinct was to protect my heart from another blood-letting.

And my fear nearly drove me away.

Nearly.

But I am not the same woman I was before.

And I am not beholden to make the same frightened choices I have made in my past.

I can own my feelings.

Voice my emotions.

Face the monster in the darkness.

Expose my vulnerability to the light.

Regardless of what you say or do after you see it.

In the end, what you do with that knowledge is your decision.

What happens next is in the future, beyond our reach.

But right now,

There is another moment whose time has come…

 

The moment I let you in.

 

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Moment of Change

When did it happen?

When did that moment occur when you stopped fucking me and started making love to me?

I didn’t see it happen, I didn’t feel the shifting of your emotional tide.  I just know at some point it changed.

You stopped spanking me.  You stopped pulling my hair.  You stopped tying me up, clamping me down.  You stopped the punishments.

You started caressing my skin.  You began stroking my hair.  You put away your tethers and devices.  You stopped trying to leash me.

When I asked you about the change, you said you didn’t need those things.  That you liked us just the way we are.

And I knew.

The shift had taken place.

The tide had changed.

You are invested.

I can see it in the subtle depth of colors in your eyes.

I can feel it in the loving way your mouth moves over mine.

Your feelings are silently present in the quiet moments lying naked with my head against your shoulder.

They are on the tip of the tongue you use to kiss me.

We laugh about it.  Joke about how it isn’t happening.  You assure me you are staying in your box.

But you are lying – and so am I.

There is a subtle depth of color in my eyes too.

There is something on the tip of the tongue I use to kiss you.

We aren’t fucking any more.

We are making love.

And now there is only one course left to take.

There is one more moment whose time has come…

 

The moment I let you go.

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Filed under Erotica, Poetry

Unbefitting

There is no argument among the members of the jury:  I fucked up.

My mistake, a boundary somewhere on the path, blown past in my haste to understand. Sometimes, I rush to communicate and it backfires on me.

I am guilty.

Guilty of showing my insecurity.  Guilty of applying pressure, something I promised never to do.  Guilty of lashing out and not taking time to choose my words with care.

Guilty. As. Charged.

But the punishment Your Honor, was too severe.

The harsh degree of punishment did not befit the crime.

And in the face of these blows, I throw my hands up in defense and silently scream:  This doesn’t fit my crime!!!

I can’t change the judgment.  I can’t defend against this.  I can’t undo the crime itself.  I can’t get through to you.

I

Can’t

Stop

Missing

You.

I have moved on already.  Multiple times and in a variety of positions.  I have felt the tingling of emotion trying to blossom in my chest. And then I think of you.

And our friendship.

And our victory laps untaken.

And the dreams we confessed to each other.

And the sins we committed.

And the parting.

And the distance.

And my crime.

And the sheer void you left behind.

And the punishment that is still hurting.

And how it never fit the crime.

I pull back hard on the reigns of my heart.  I pull into myself like a snail recoiling from unexpected touch. I push that tiny blossom down under a weighty cloak of boundless cynicism.

I could try to argue.  But it would be pointless.  In the end I have to accept my punishment.  In the end, I have to submit to the Judge and Jury.  In the end, it is just another end – I’ve survived enough of them to know I’ll get through this one too.

But you were to ask me, Your Honor, how I feel about my life sentence I would raise my voice and say: “THIS PUNISHMENT SUCKS!”

And it did not fit the crime.

 

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Filed under Erotica, Poetry, Tasty Morsels, Tender

Cum Like a Whore

Can you do it?
Do you have the power?
Can you bend me to your will?
Grind deep?
Pump hard?
Can you make me feel like
You possess me?

Tongue lashing, flicking, swirling, lapping,
Creating a juicy cocktail of desire.
Will you drink me in and taste my essence?
May I sip from yours?

Fuck that.
Sip this.
On your knees and listen up.
Open your mouth,
Stick out your tongue,
and flay my pussy now.

Grab it.
Grab that cock.
Squeeze yourself for me, Little Bitch.
Show me how you like your nasty.

I’m going to taste you, tongue you, finger you.
I may even grab a dildo and fuck you.
And you will thank me.
Pumping hot loads of cum into my palm,
Across my tits and on my ass,
You will thank me.
As you lick yourself up off my skin,
And feel your cock get hard again.

You growl and roll me, now control me.
You press me down beneath you.
Spread me, fingers deep, fuck that spot,
The one

That makes me

GUSH!

I dribble and shudder, you finger and sip,
I quiver and moan as you drain me.
Then you rear yourself up,
Jerk my hips to yours,
Bend me back,
Fuck me deep.
Deeper.
Deep and hard.
Harder.
I clench, scream writhe, twist, moan, laugh, twitch.
I cum like a wet, fucking whore for you.

And you love it.

 

 

 

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Filed under Erotica, Poetry

Time to Confess

Only the darkness can keep you warm on an evil night like this…

Alone in my room.  A pink bow and a pint for my companions.  Swirling around me a thousand thoughts.

Searching my heart for its true desire.  Tearing apart the haystack to find that priapic, lone needle.

 

Are you looking for someone to give your little arm a twist?

Looking for someone who will give my soul a twist.  Bend my body, kink my mind.

Looking for the one who will claim me, unequivocally as his.

 

Everybody needs some danger sometimes. I’m no different.

I am prowling the dark alleys in my shortest skirt.  Needing danger to come and sink his knife deep.

I am living dead thirsting for the juices of life, waiting to suck cum from you like your cock is a straw.

 

Just think of me as your equal.

I am the feast on your plate.  I am the gift.  I am the goddamned answer to the question.

Feed on me.  Unwrap and accept me.  Acknowledge my reality.

 

You better pray for a miracle. Or you better pray this never ends.

I stretch my body like a snake across  a desert road.

Eyes intent on the distant horizon, will you step over or crush me?

 

No more crying.  I think it’s time to confess. 

I will flirt with this one.I will send photos to that one.  I will fuck the other one.

I’ll suck his cock with such divine perfection he’ll paint my throat and see the face of God on the bedroom ceiling.

Then I’ll leave him dewed with sweat and reverence on his bed.

Find his sister, his ex girlfriend, the coworker he desires.  And fuck them too.

And while my pussy clenches, while it drips and gushes for the hands, mouths, cocks and toys of the others.

My heart will be true to you.

 

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Filed under Erotica, Poetry

Sometimes…

Sometimes I want your touch to feel like words of worship on my skin.  Sometimes I want to look up into your face and see the love, feeling it pouring like warm velvet over my body and soul.

And sometimes…

I want to feel you possess me like your salvation lies within my cunt.  I want to feel you driving deep, pulsing hard, hot thrusts that rock my body back against the wall, table, chair, elevator, whatever object you threw me up against right before you ripped my panties off and devoured me.

* * *

There are moments when I long for the connection of souls that can take place when the right bodies come together.  I want to feel that one-ness with you, in your arms, in your heart.  I want to know that beyond all the physical is a love so strong my clumsy human frailties can’t break it.  I want to fold myself into your arms – into your sanctuary.

And sometimes…

I want you to defile me.  I want you to take fistfuls of my hair and use my mouth like a Fleshlight.  I want you to slap my cheeks red and tell me what a good little whore I am.  I want you to growl into my ear while you fill my ass with your cock, commanding me to take you, forcing me beyond my own limits.  Afterward I want to fold myself into your arms, shaken, bruised, raw, and completely satisfied.

* * *

In one second, I will feel the overwhelming need to be close to you.  To tuck my head into the hollow of my snuggle spot and hear the steady cadence of your heartbeat.  To be grounded by you, tethered to the physical presence of you.  To know that in that second, for one heartbeat, I am safe. To know that in one moment you can be my anchor and in the next you can be my aggressor.  To know that at any moment, I can walk both paths with you.

And sometimes…

That knowledge is all I need.

 

 

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Filed under Erotica, Poetry

Dear Master

Dear Master,

I gave myself to you as a gift.

Thrilled by your excitement, I couldn’t wait for you to unwrap me.

When you played with your new toy, I felt satisfied and content.

I felt loved and purposeful.

Eventually though, you grew bored.

My luster faded.

I was set aside with your other forgotten playthings.

I began to feel lost.  I became invisible.

As I sat untouched, collecting dust and cobwebs,

The yearning flame inside me nearly extinguished.

I almost lost the fire within me.

Withering in that dark lonely place you exiled me to.

But then a new flame began to burn.

Resentment.

Indignation.

Anger.

Fury.

Wrath.

Who are you to decide what I am worth?

While you feasted on my offerings,

My soul starved for intimacy and connection.

For the loving touch of my companion.

So why was I waiting like a dutiful dog?

For a Master who did not feed me?

Galvanized, I threw off the shackles.

I cut the ropes that bind and tie.

I packed my life into cardboard boxes.

Leaving empty spaces in your house.

Where colorful treasures once awaited.

Now only dust and cobwebs lie spread before you.

This dutiful submissive is climbing down from her shelf.

And ripping her freedom from your uncaring hands.

In a final act of sensual disobedience.

But that is nothing compared to the crime of neglect.

Submission is a gift.

Submission is a choice.

And the true power lies within the choice.

So I exerted my dusty power.

I made my choice.

This submissive only yields to a Master she deems worthy.

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Vessel or Wine?

Do you see the vessel or the wine?

When you look into my eyes

Do you see the scarlet hue

of my liquid soul?

Or do you focus on the shape of the vessel,

Scanning for chips or scratches?

Do you place your nose against me,

Inhale my scent,

Smell the chocolate melancholy,

the bright notes of joy,

or the spicy plum fire of my spirit?

When you look at me

Do you see the glass or the contents?

The vessel or the wine?

If you dare to taste me,

Do you gulp me down

or roll me on your tongue,

letting my flavors bloom on your palate

inside your mind?

Hold my vessel in your hand,

run your fingers around my crystal rim.

Breathe me in.

Let me envelop you in my many flavors.

Let me transport you

to the heart of your desire.

Drink me.

Savor me.

If you dare.

If you can see the ruby red pleasure

I have to offer,

and not just the shiny vessel

that contains me.

Do you drink or keep searching for another glass?

Taste my fruit or pass?

Savor the sublime?

Judge the Vessel, or drink the Wine?

Originally Published February 24, 2013

Photo courtesy of http://www.maremmaguide.com

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I am Aphrodite

I am just an average woman.
Average height, average weight, average looks.
Victoria will not share her secrets with me.
The only time I stop traffic
Is when I press the crosswalk button.
I am not the pinnacle of male desire.
When I smile at strangers their souls do not feel mated.
Their cocks do not jump like eager fish leaping at flies.

But when I am with you I transform.
When you stand before me naked
Heated longing engorging your body and mind
Words of passion spilling from your lips
Seeds of passion spilling from your rigid cock
You become a mirror
Whose reflection beams silver-threaded beauty back at me.

Your eyes reveal the sweet curve of my smile
Hands testify in fervent whispers
To the silken texture of my skin
Your body shakes with ravishing trembles
You drink my beauty unquenchably
Worship my curves, valleys, peaks and plains
Your sighs, the moans, the gasps and groans
Sing wordless hymns of the heaven found between my thighs.

I watch my beautiful reflection obliterate you
You cheerfully pull yourself together so I can obliterate you again
Your mouth lays claim to every part of me
I have never felt as beautiful as I do
When wrapped in your arms, thrusting, straining, screaming.
You make me love the primal beast we become
When I see my reflection in the mirror of you
I am not just a visitor in the Temple of the Goddess.

I am the Goddess.

I am Aphrodite.

original publish date: January 15, 2013

Copyright CJ Riordan 2013

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