anal sex, erotic poem, fettered, night frost, Poetry, queens and concubines, sauna sex, sonnet, threesome, wet heat
Night frosts. Fettered gales. Sauna sun rise. Steam
fit for queens and concubines. After school
you came, brought her with talk of romps, extreme
and droll. “Not in her rump,” was your one rule
as I slipped out of you. “Only in mine.”
All day the sauna’s pine walls soaked up heat.
When you two arrived, frigid as frost’s shine,
we puffed and passed, shucking off our clothes. Cheat
ice-sleet like this. Mellow lay, they say. Stoned,
you laughed when she impaled herself. I laughed
when you kissed the spot where the two of us
joined. She laughed and came. Others have condoned
this. Meh. You asked to learn my queer witchcraft;
craft built from libertines and the Goddess.