romance

You give my soul a hard-on

you give my soul a hard-on,
you make my heart erect,
my being throb and pulsate,
my very core erupt.

you make my psyche tingle,
you make my mind inflate,
my life force squirt and dribble,
my spirit ejaculate.


A Taste

we meet in secret, in a hotel room – you give me a peck on the cheek and tell me that as long as i do everything you say, we can meet again. if i hesitate, or fail in the slightest and you will leave and i will never see you again.

you have me undress and lay on the bed, already erect, as your eyes take in my cock, bouncing eagerly on my belly with anticipation – you step forward and blindfold me – i hear you moving and the sound of your clothes falling to the floor. i ask if you’re naked, and you tell me not to speak.

i feel you climbing onto the bed, and you tell me that i am not to touch you, that i am not to touch myself. i am not even allowed to move unless told to – you kneel over me, your legs straddling mine, looking down at me trembling with excitement, my member fit to burst.

you stroke my chest softly, with the tips of you fingers, feel my heart pounding rapidly, the way a wild beast might pound its cage in an effort to be free. you sweep your fingers down over my belly, stopping just short of my twitching shaft. you run both your hands down my sides and up over me, stopping even closer this time. you do this, again and again, getting nearer and nearer, until the lightest touch would have me overflow.

i can tell, by the way you are breathing more heavily and the light trembling of the bed, what you are doing to yourself. you remind me again, with the hint of a gasp in your voice, not to touch you and not to touch myself, knowing just how much i long to – through the mattress i feel your hips start to rock back and forth and hear your light, open-mouthed gasps reflect off the ceiling and know you have your head tilted back in ecstasy.

you lean forward, supporting yourself with your other hand on the headboard and plant the tiniest of kisses on my quivering lips. i can feel your hair brush against my skin and your breath, like sweet steam, on my cheek – your mouth hovers over mine as your orgasm erupts through you, spreading like molten, bubbling lava, to the very tips of your fingers and toes – your orgasmic moans are soft, breathy and almost whisper-like, but there is no mistaking the pleasure they portray, as you pant and pulsate over me, your body on fire with delight.

before you climb off me, you sweep a glistening fingertip over my lips, barely touching them but giving me a tantalising taste of heaven, as i lay there gasping with a mixture of unbearable frustration and momentous delight. you dress silently, still shaking with excitement, and exit the room without a sound, leaving me in the dark, glued to the spot with fear of losing you, my erection still raging like a hungry wolf.

it is only hours later when i hear an awkward cough that is not yours, that i dare take off the blindfold. only to see the ugly old, toothless maid, who has come to clean the room, standing at the end of the bed, mouth gaping and eyes bulging at the sight of my still stiff, still trembling body.


Anticipation

i stand naked in the middle of the room, blindfolded and with my hands on my head, as you asked. i hear you open the cabinet and take something out. i do not know what it is and my imagination starts to run wild. not knowing what is coming makes it seem far more frightening and you know this. i hear you slowly circle me, sometimes coming very close. minutes go by and i start to tremble with the anticipation. i think i feel something brush lightly against my skin but i can not be sure, my senses are playing tricks with my mind now. more minutes pass and despite my fear and the tears running down my cheeks, my cock is stiff and twitching. i swear i feel something touching it but i can’t be sure. i can’t even be sure which way up i am any more. you turn the music up and i know this is to drown out my screams and i tense up and start flinching uncontrollably. i can feel your hot breath on the back of my neck and smell your arousal. i can almost taste how turned on you are. i cannot believe that you would make me wait longer but you do, and it is not until you see that i am at the point of collapse that you finally do it. you kiss me.


TV

share a winter’s day with me
shiver and chatter
watch frost and hail
share blankets and kisses
and fuel bills
have sex in front of the tv


Six score hours

In six score hours
we will finally kiss
for the very,
very first time.
Our mouths,
and flesh
will eventually meet,
although our hearts
entwined long since,

with magical words
that flew through space;
love at the speed
of light.
My soul gets erect
every time
that i think
we will kiss,
in six score hours


Pyroclasm

High on a cold, stark, mountain top, lies a snow beaten research centre. It is so remote, that it can only be reached by helicopter. Inside instruments whirr and click, dials spin and needles dance. Its only two inhabitants  a professor and a research assistant grab hold of each other and kiss deeply and powerfully. They have both wanted this for a very long time and their long suppressed passions rise up in them. They tear at each others clothes madly almost devouring each other with their wet, hungry mouths.

Behind them, needles scratch zig-zag patterns across scrolling graph paper and around cylinders, but right now their work does not matter to them, they are consumed with each other.

Deep beneath them, miles below ground, a magma flow courses through the earth.

He lifts her onto a bench and, jerking her skirt upwards, he pushes against her, feeling the heat between her legs with his hardness, ripping open her top and kissing her neck greedily, as though he had only moments to live. With the desire of a starving tiger, she tugs at his belt and trousers until she has him freed. He shoves her further back and she pushes instruments and beakers, and piles of documents, roughly out of the way. Paper flutters around them and glass shatters on the floor, chemicals hiss and steam. She raises her hips to help him, as he lifts her skirt and pulls down her already dripping panties.

Behind them needles twitch in their dials, climbing jerkily upwards towards red. Screens flash with data.

Below them the volcano is becoming aroused. Little jets of steam gasp and sigh from its surface. and boiling lava gushes through its veins.

A pen on a graph starts drawing faster, more frantic zigs and zags.

He pushes her over onto her back, sending more paper flying and a computer monitor crashing to floor and he bends forward and kisses her glistening pussy. “Oh yes!” she she half moans, half whispers; it has been so long since a man had done that to her. He continues; little kisses at first and tiny little tickles with the tip of his tongue but he is so crazy for her, and so wants to pleasure her that he is soon flicking hard and fast at her clit, responding to her every gasp and sigh, his engorged cock brushing against the cold hard steel of the bench, sending shivers up and down its length. He revels in her, filling his mouth with her erotic tastes and his nostrils with her inflaming odours. ‘Now!’ she shudders, “Fuck me now! Before I come! Fuck me!”

Sulphur spits from the volcano’s sweating flank and huge clouds burst in gasps from its gaping mouth. the ground trembles and a flock of birds take to the air.

Climbing onto the bench, he kisses her belly and breasts as he rises up her, until they are face to face, eye to eye, and his shaft hovering over her pussy, tickling it. She tastes herself as they kiss and she guides him into her. He fucks her fiercely and deeply, pulling back each time until he is almost out of her before plunging back into her with a strength that shakes her whole body, filling her, taking her breath away and drawing light screams of joy from her. The bench rocks under their frenzy and she digs her fingers deep into his buttocks pulling him as hard into her as she can.

The Magma rises faster now, deep below them, flowing thickly through the body of the mountain. Until it can take no more. Until it must find its release.

He rears up as he comes and bursts into her and she clings to him, their bodies in unison with his eruption, their orgasms shooting through every muscle in their bodies, their bodies pulsating in time with each other’s.

The molten lava rises and bursts from the volcano, shooting high into the air, a thick gushing hot liquid. It splatters the landscape around, in steaming great pools and it flows in great rivulets down the mountain’s sides. Over and over the volcano erupts in hot sticky squirts, covering everything before it, seemingly never ending.

After a long while, the professor gets up off the bench and looks around her, something is not quite right. She looks at a screen. “Fuck!”, she screams. her assistant looks at her,
“What?”, he asks. She looks back at the screen and his eyes follow hers “Oh holy fuck!” he murmurs. They both turn round, to the window and are just in time to see the pyroclastic flow before it engulfs them and turns them into dust.


Feral heart

She is totally feral, a child of the forest. Abandoned at birth and brought up by wolves and wild creatures, nurtured by the trees themselves, nursed by raw nature. She knows nothing of civilisation, and her language is her own, her nouns are bird calls, her verbs are chatters and howls. She eats berries and roots and sometimes, raw flesh.

She sits on a high branch looking down at the boy, fascinated. He has no idea she is there. He is clearly lost, and frightened, with no knowledge of the forest or her lore. He sits beneath her sobbing and calling out in his strange tongue, scared and lonely.

She has had dealings with the humans before. Once, their men captured her and caged her and prodded and poked at her with strange, ugly tools. Escaping from them was a cinch and she remembers how she scampered up one of their silly, closed in, little dwellings and how she threw her shit at them before leaping back to her forest home where her walls breathed with life and her ceiling glittered with starlight. She sniffs deeply, there is a storm brewing and she makes a little chirping sound in her throat, calling the rain, it is her magic and she believes the rain calls back to her – and maybe it does.

The boy is not like those men, he seems fragile and sad. He starts, violently when she drops from the tree, gracefully, almost silently, in front of him, his eyes wide and terrified at the sight of her. She is naked and filthy, her hair matted and locked, her body caked in the earth she grew from. She stinks. The storm grows closer and she calls to it again and stares, enthralled, at him, tilting her head from side to side, curious and aroused. The first drops of rain bounce at their feet and thunder makes a distant rumble and she responds with a guttoral chatter, telling the thunder where she is, how to find her. The boy looks scared at this, to him she sounds like a crazed monkey, but there is a greed in his eyes that is stronger than the fear. He is young and never known a woman or even seen one naked.

The feel of his hungry gaze on her breasts and belly excites her. The wild orphan takes a step closer to him and reaches out. Clothes are a mystery to her and she tugs clumsily at his shirt and trousers wanting to free him, driven by instinct and passion. By the time she has him naked, the rain is beating, in hard, heavy, drops onto them and around them. Animals scream loudly in awe at the growing tempest and the forest quakes at its power. The girl knows nothing of social mores or decorum and she licks at the boy and sniffs him, takes him in her hand and makes him take her in his.

Furious raindrops burst around them and lightning flashes across the sky and through their eyes and hearts and loins. She beckons him to enter her and he does so, hurridly with the virgin impatience of youth. She claws at him, her nails digging carelessly into his flesh and she howls at the black sky as the rain turns dust to mud and they drench themselves in it and each other.

When they are done, it is not for long as giant raindrops now batter their shaking bodies, not allowing their desires to rest, awakening every little nerve, every sinew, the thunder shaking the ground beneath them. Their eyes meet and lock and, for the first time, she smiles at him. She wants more and mounts him and they begin afresh, this time the rain beats so heavily on them that it is hard for them to breath and they spit and fire, dripping with animal fury. She likes this thing she will call ‘men’ she will seek out more of them and the idea of several of them at once fills her imagination, she wants to be smothered with these hands, full of their lust, covered in their disgusting pleasure. Lightning strikes so close that the ground beneath them jumps and she throws her head back and howls so primally that for that moment the entire jungle is quiet for her, even the storm itself hushes as she yells.

Sudenlly she senses movement nearby, there are others and they smell human and not like her boy, there is something ugly and violent to their stench and she forces herself away from her desire and glances in their direction. She cannot know that it is the boy’s father and mother and the ranger.
“There he is!” shouts the boys father.
“Christ!” screams his mother, “He’s being attacked by something! Do something!” she pleads to the ranger, “Do something!”

The ranger’s bullet passes through her feral heart and lodges in a nearby tree. She collapses, lifeless, onto her lover’s chest.


118!

er… just curious, but how many boyfriends have you had before me?

it doesn’t matter, now is what counts

a lot then?

four actually

that’s okay, i’ve only slept with four women too

oh

what?

nothing

you’ve slept with guys that weren’t you boyfriend?

its not illegal

i know… how many? i won’t be judgemental… we should be honest with each other

fifty-nine

WHAT!!!

you said we should be honest with each other

yes, but you’re supposed to halve the actual number to spare my feelings

er… i did

thanks to bearded ladies for the idea


Piccadilly

our first kiss, at the arrivals terminal, was electric and aroused both our passions instantly to near boiling point, and as we squeezed onto the crowded Piccadilly line train you could feel my erection, through my trousers, pressing into your behind. there was only one spare seat, so i took it and you sat on my lap, piling your various items of luggage on your knees to make room for the throng of standing passengers. my cock pushed up between your soft, gently squeezing  thighs. it was an end seat an the woman to our right was engrossed in conversation with the man on her right, and your bags and parcels made a perfect shield against any of the standers seeing as i inched your skirt slowly up over your ass, pulled your panties to one side and slid a finger deep into your soaking, hot pussy. you knew exactly what to do and lifted up while i got my cock out, draped from view by your flowing skirt, and when you sat back down it plunged deep into your waiting depth, making us both shudder and gasp uncontrollably.

there was no need for us to move, as the juddering of the carriage, as it hurtled down the tunnel, jiggled and shook you on top of me. it was quite an unnatural sensation but exhilarating as the train rocked and bounced you on and off my throbbing shaft. at some points the carriage would jolt vigorously and repeatedly, lifting you almost off my cock completely before slamming you back down onto it, at others, the train just shuddered and trembled, it was like sitting inside a giant vibrator.

we had waited months for this and we could have very easily come within a few minutes, if it weren’t for the fact that every couple of minutes the tube came to a halt at a station, teasing us and prolonging our ecstasy for nearly the entire hour long journey. we sat in those stations, sometimes on the very brink of orgasm, trying not to move or breath too hard, my prick deep inside you, pulsing as your dripping pussy squeezed it.

you realised that the stranger stood right in front of us had realised what we are up to, when you saw his trousers begin to bulge and fill and when you looked up, he stared right down at your flushed face and winked, he knew exactly what we were doing. his growing erection was only inches from your hands as they clasped the parcels on your lap, and you watched as it came to full mast and bulged forcefully against the thin cotton like a wild beast demanding release from a cage. you could so easily reach out and touch it.

the stranger allowed the swaying of the carriage to push himself nearer to you, brushing his impressive cock against your knuckles, it felt like something made of rock in there, and when more passengers board, he used this to squeeze closer to you and let his long coat hang down on either side, shielding what you did next from view. with me still pumping deep inside you, my fingers digging into your butt, you unzipped him and slid your hand inside, clasping his bursting cock greedily. it was magnificent, not particularly long but so thick and hard that you could barely get you hand round it.

we were only two stops from home when the three of us came, after a long series of powerful judders, that took us to an explosive and thick and deep climax. thanks to the screeching brakes we were all able to cry out undetected, except for the woman to my right who shot me a filthy look when the words “holy fuck yes!” escaped unbidden from my mouth.

the stranger got off one stop before us, his coat now buttoned to conceal the large stain, and we never saw him again.

anyway son, that’s why we called you Piccadilly.


Woman