Tag Archives: cunnilingus

omit

31 Tuesday Mar 2015

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“Suckle my flesh.” There should be more, of course,
something about, “your kisses on my clit,”

“your two fingers inside,” and “my voice, hoarse,
urgent,” “my flesh sweating, flushed.” I omit

the rest because this isn’t about that.
Somewhere a girl sleeps on flagstones, under

thatch-roof and dry-stone walls. A witch’s brat
who knows nothing about lust, that other

magic. No, not even that. So, what then?
Quote from the Torah, Bible or Koran

about female nature being sinful?
Hell no! We go down to the beach, again,

naked breasts wearing shadows of a tan,
watching waves rush in and out like a bull.

fantasma guloso [greedy ghost]

20 Friday Mar 2015

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“I had almost forgotten how good it is to be licked – kissed – smeared –”

Be for me the language
that redeems me.

Mortal flesh is weak, but
I am apocalyptic: she-devil
in heat.

I am your horny sister
cursed with
chastity.

“Greedy Ghost.” (desire
takes shape) “Feel this wet tongue
slide and your juice returns
to condition of the living.”

][][

“Eu quase havia esquecido como é bom ser lambido – beijado – lambuzado –”

Seja comigo uma língua
que me redime.

Carne mortal é fraca, mas
eu sou apocalíptica: um diaba
no cio.

Eu sou o seu tesão irmã
amaldiçoado com
castidade.

“Fantasma guloso.” (desejo
toma corpo) “Sentir a língua molhada
deslizar enquanto o teu suco retorna
à condição de vivos.”

gosto [taste]

20 Friday Mar 2015

Posted by in Poetry, Portuguese, Translation

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TASTE

Full of the mystery of taste.
Reckless with my mouth.

Throbbing fruit
fresh. My mouth

on your skin. A light kiss
with the touch

of the tongue.
Suck your

fruit; with a grip,
howling, and hair

pulling. Strange
fruit.

][][

GOSTO

Plena do gosto da mistério.
Afoita com minha boca.

Latejando de fruta
fresca. Minha boca

na teu pele. Um leve beijo
com o toque

da língua.
Chupo teu

fruto; com um aperto,
um urro, e puxão

de cabelo. Fruto
estranho.

Bilac’s DELÍRIO

20 Friday Mar 2015

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Olavo Bilac, Delirium

Naked since love doesn’t need shame
In my her mouth I pressed.
And, as for carnal thrills, she said:
“Lower down, baby, I want your kiss!”

Crude, unconsciousness of my desire
Trembling, my mouth obeyed,
And I bit her taut breasts
So that she gasped like broken chords.

In endless sighs of joys
She told me, still almost crying:
“Lower down, baby!” – All in a frenzy.

On her belly I laid my mouth,
“Lower, baby!” – She said, crazy,
Puritans, forgive me! but I obeyed …

][]][

Delírio

Nua, mas para o amor não cabe o pejo
Na minha a sua boca eu comprimia.
E, em frêmitos carnais, ela dizia:
– Mais abaixo, meu bem, quero o teu beijo!

Na inconsciência bruta do meu desejo
Fremente, a minha boca obedecia,
E os seus seios, tão rígidos mordia,
Fazendo-a arrepiar em doce arpejo.

Em suspiros de gozos infinitos
Disse-me ela, ainda quase em grito:
– Mais abaixo, meu bem! – num frenesi.

No seu ventre pousei a minha boca,
– Mais abaixo, meu bem! – disse ela, louca,
Moralistas, perdoai! Obedeci …

note:

Olavo Brás Martins dos Guimarães Bilac (1865 – 1918) was a Brazilian poet, journalist and translator. This poem comes from his, Poesias (1888)

[clit] [spark] [return]

03 Friday Oct 2014

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Kissing rust between
thighs to make that dead

clit spark return veiled
in blues gear that

screams circuits twitch,
they all know it: A

to Zed ghosts are not
in machines, they are

machines that must
rot and rust alone

in the dark. Holy Spirit?
La Llorona? Slag Pile

Annie? What shouldn’t
survive is the spark.

Power fades. All suns
die. Yet we defile

the night with electric
lights. We are tools.

Thinking apes are
machines and when

we die who knows
not you. I went down

on a ghost once, it
was like licking raw

wire. Spit-drool sparked.
I held her there; until

her low sigh of bliss
faded … like a machine, almost.

][][

Kissing rust between thighs to make that dead
clit spark return veiled in blues gear that screams

circuits twitch, they all know it: A to Zed
ghosts are not in machines, they are machines

that must rot and rust alone in the dark.
Holy Spirit? La Llorona? Slag Pile

Annie? What shouldn’t survive is the spark.
Power fades. All suns die. Yet we defile

the night with electric lights. We are tools.
Thinking apes are machines and when we die

who knows not you. I went down on a ghost
once, it was like licking raw wire. Spit-drool

sparked. I held her there; until her low sigh
of bliss faded … like a machine, almost.

lick me here, swamp thing

05 Saturday Jul 2014

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waiting for thunder
lightning along your green tongue
kiss me here, swamp thing

][

plagued by spring fever
wind parting long curling grass
licking red marsh earth

][

it won’t ever end
it won’t get any better—
this need to be loved

][

under all these stars
addicted to dark matter
Cthulhu, I cum

minha língua

16 Sunday Mar 2014

Posted by in Erotic, Illustration and art, Poetry, Portuguese, Translation

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March 16, 2014 (2)

Drinking angels.
Saliva. My tongue.
My language. My words.

Lick my wings with your verb.
Until you feel the orgasm flower within my shoulders.

Slowly lick my clit, said the angel.
The pulse of your tongue touches it.
You devil, the angel said.
You leave me nearly dead horny.

][][

Bebem os anjos.
A saliva. Minha língua.
Minha lingua. Meus palavras.

Lambe-me as asas com a teu verbo.
Até que você sente a flor orgasmo dentro da meus ombros.

Devagar lambesse o meu clitóris, disse o anjo.
O dos teus pulsos isso língua toca.
Você diabo, disse o anjo.
Você me deixa de tesão quase morto.

before the storm

07 Tuesday Jan 2014

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Before the thunderstorm arrives
Ampropits’ arraj galis
Ամպրոպից առաջ գալիս

Rub your tongue across her swollen clitoris
K’sum dzer lezun amboghj ir tslik urrats
Քսում ձեր լեզուն ամբողջ իր ծլիկ ուռած

Watch as she begins to arch her spine
Ditel yen k’ani vor na sksum e shrjadardz ir voghnashari
Դիտել են քանի որ նա սկսում է շրջադարձ իր ողնաշարի

and her thighs begin to tremble
yev nra azdreri sksum yen doghal
եւ նրա ազդրերի սկսում են դողալ

Inhale the rain in the air
Nershnch’yel e andzrev odum
Ներշնչել է անձրեւ օդում

][][

notes:

The best way to determine if a foreign language dictionary is of any use is to see if it has the word “clitoris” in it, a standard medical term. If it doesn’t then there is a good chance there will be a whole mess of other words it won’t have either. If language is simply a tool that allows us to communicate then there is no such thing as a “dirty” word, there are only uptight people who fear the truth behind words. One day someone needs to make an erotic Armenian dictionary. The nearest I could find in Armenian for clitoris is “tslik” (ծլիկ ), though I am sure there are other words, too, that I just can’t find.