Tag Archives: 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

From the Vagina Vault: My Man

Originally published on February 19, 2013, this piece is as relevant today as it was the day I wrote it.  (And no, I haven’t found him yet.)

My Man

Are you my man?

Are you the one who can harness this flame?

Can you dance me to the end of love

And back again?

Do you have the strength

To hold me together when I shatter?

Do you see my beauty

Even with my imperfections?

When you look into my eyes

Do you see the Angel-courtesan within?

Can you feel the heat from the glow of her red halo?

Will you give heart and soul to me

Without fear or reservation?

Cherish our bond above any other?

Can you unleash the beast within

Brave the teeth and claws, the animal desire

And revel in the fact you’ll never tame her?

Are you strong enough to handle my love?

When I unleash it with both barrels?

Will you sanctify me

Pleasure me

Satisfy me

Forgive me

As I will You?

Don’t stand on my doorstep roses in hand,

Making honeyed promises you’ll never keep.

Don’t promise me forever.

Or say you’ll never hurt me.

For if you truly love me

You will hurt me.

And forever is just a myth.

Instead promise me that

You will love me in this moment

With everything you are.

Promise me that when you hurt me

You will nurse that hurt until it’s gone.

Promise me that you will treat

The gift of my love

With diligent reverence.

Show me you will give these things to me

And let me give them to you.

Now that you know what that question really means

Let me ask it again:

Are you my man?

Copyright 2014 CJ Riordan

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Filed under Erotica

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

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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Filed under Erotica, Poetry

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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Filed under Poetry

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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Filed under Poetry