Tag Archives: cunnilingus

witch-mark

18 Thursday Jul 2013

Posted by in Erotic, Poetry, sonnet

≈ Comments Off on witch-mark

Tags

, , , , , , ,

 

Bluntless succubus. A joyless rolled spliff
between two blue lips. The devil’s nipple,
misfit clit, nuzzles my chin with a whiff
of a witch-mark; which marks where I’ve been, dulls
pillow talk, slows all us down. Going down
on you bigmouth I get my full mouth throttled
to the ground. Shagged but not fagged; a putdown
that can only make sense in past-tense. Fraggled,
as in rock and squirt and splashdown. Your skirt
around your hips, your lips blue and agog
as you gag me. Did I mention that there’s
something in my throat? The pervert’s effort
is worth it. The sky is dull without smog.
Lust is nothing more than nightmares and prayers.

minete and a room full of holes

05 Friday Jul 2013

Posted by in Erotic, Poetry, Portuguese, Translation

≈ Comments Off on minete and a room full of holes

Tags

, , , , ,

 

Doce a palavra. Minete.
Doce o sal na minha língua.
Desperta, meu sangue.
Negue que me amas três vezes antes do amanhecer.
Perdoai-me porque te desejo tanto.
Doce teu mágica.
Transforme teu esporra em vinho.
Como beato, ajoelho-me entre tuas coxas, irmã.
Minete. Desejo ser bebido.
.
Sweet word. Minete.
Sweet salt on my tongue.
Awake, my blood.
Deny that you love me three times before dawn.
Forgive me because I desire so much.
Your sweet magic.
Turn your cum into wine.
How blessed I kneel between your thighs, sister.
Minete. I wish to be drunk.

X3

X1

Note from author:

There aren’t a whole lot of foreign words in the world for cunnilingus (the English didn’t have one for so long that they had to steal the idea from the French). Minete is one of those words. It’s Portuguese and my dictionary defines it thus:

S.f. (calão) Prática de sexo oral que consiste na estimulação do órgão genital feminino, em especial o clitoris, com a língua ou os lábios. O mesmo que cunnilingus. (Do francês «minet») exemplo de: Afastou-lhe as coxas e começou a fazer-lhe lentamente um minete.

sun birth moon

17 Friday May 2013

Posted by in Armenian, Erotic, Poetry, Portuguese, Translation

≈ 2 Comments

Tags

, , ,

 

teu orgasmo é
o nascimento da lua pelo sol
nos ares, de repente
o céu está cheio de
placenta
chuva e tua
esporra
.
Your orgasm is
the sun giving birth to the moon
in the air, suddenly
the sky is full of
afterbirth
rain and your
cum
.
Ձեր օրգազմի է
արեւը ծնում լուսնի
ներսում օդում, հանկարծ
երկինքը լի
ընկերք
անձրեւ եւ ձեր
սեմյոն

that kind of fun

13 Monday May 2013

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

≈ Comments Off on that kind of fun

Tags

, , , , ,

that kind of fun

Ես թողնում եմ, որ հաճելի է ծննդաբերության ու մայրերին.
Ես լսել նման գեղեցկությունը.
Հուր մաշկի եւ մազերի.
Ա մազոտ բնիկ.
Ուտում եմ ձեր մազոտ բնիկ.
.
I’ll leave that kind of fun to childbirth and mothers.
I’ve heard of such a beauty.
Glow to skin and hair.
A hairy slot.
I’m eating your hairy slot.

wet with rain

13 Monday May 2013

Posted by in Armenian, Erotic, Poetry, Translation

≈ Comments Off on wet with rain

Tags

, ,

 

Այսպիսով, մենք ժամանել.
Բայերի.
Տարածումը ուրախություն.

Ձեր առաջին ճիչը.
Ձեր աշխատանքային բառերի.
Համբուրեց, ուտում են, սպառում.
Թավշյա ուրախություն, թաց, ինչպես անձրեւի տակ
.
So we arrived.
Verbs.
Spread the joy.

Your first cry.
You are the words.
Kissing, eating, consuming.
Velvet joy, wet with rain.

scar

18 Monday Mar 2013

Posted by in Feminism, Poetry, sonnet

≈ Comments Off on scar

Tags

, , , , , , , ,

 

When I trace the scars on her shoulders, thick
as my finger, grotesque tattoos that wrap
around each arm. When I kiss her lithic
muscles she starts to tremble. She could snap
my spine like that. She has killed thirty men
like that. When I play with her softest part,
the part I will not name, her talismen
I call a lifetime of love, my sweetheart
opens. It’s not words but other’s secrets
that that I won’t share. When I light her lucky
strike she groans the earth before volcano’s
blow. She clamps my face in place; her ringlets
tease my nose. I love her, from her forty
broadsword strokes to each of her missing toes.

sticky greed

16 Saturday Mar 2013

Posted by in Erotic, Poetry, sonnet

≈ 8 Comments

Tags

, , , , , ,

What I love, the ghost said, is the pure want,

the fire wet and humid, the flesh quaking.

Collapsing. Claw me. Tear me, she said, haunt

my cunt the way I still haunt your fucking

dreams. Thrill me. Kill me — heh, too late for that.

Fist me. Twist me. Fill me. I am rabid,

dripping toxic. You got blue balls? tomcat

blues. Catch me. Stretch me. My cum is acid.

It will eat through your cock. Burn your fingers.

Shake me. Break me. Soak me. Scare me — if you

can. If you can fuck, love. If you can suck

and spew. I am sticky greed. My horrors

will show you. Because you said that you knew.

Dumb boy toy. You told me that ghosts can’t fuck.

bride of the yellow river

27 Wednesday Feb 2013

Posted by in Erotic, Illustration and art, Poetry, sonnet

≈ 2 Comments

Tags

, , , , , , , ,

bride of the yellow river 1

This is a way of telling a story.
Wash it down your throat.
— Wong Amy, Narration

* * *

I knew a girl once, a farmer’s daughter
from Wu, who was married to the Great King
Yangtze. Yeah, that’s what they said to her,

as their sole explanation for drowning
her, one more sacrifice to the Yellow
River. One more River King’s Bride. Soggy,

I could taste in her kisses marsh gas, woe
and weeds. “There was no king,” she once told me.
“So I’m no bride.” On her face a smile brimmed,
swollen and in flood until I too drowned

as I went down between her thighs, her trimmed
black curls, her mons pubis, her venus mound

that made her rain cloud burst. I thank Eros
we met for death made these passions endless.

* * *

Notes:

Wu is a region of China near the mouth of the Yangtze river.

Historical records tell of the custom of sacrificing a young girl each year to the spirit of the Yangtze, a “bride” to the god of the Yellow river.

after “it” happened

07 Thursday Feb 2013

Posted by in Erotic, Poetry, sonnet

≈ 1 Comment

Tags

, , , , , , ,

It was hard in the beginning, of course.

Getting her up, the feedings, the wipings.
“Let me die,” she’d beg me, full of remorse.
I don’t blame her. I bought her silk stockings
for her four stumps. She hated them, at first.

Three years after “it” happened she started
to smile. She stopped saying that she was cursed
on her sixteenth birthday. I french braided
her hair and we went everywhere. We’re fine
down in the stream near the village. She rests
in my embrace. Peace is being buoyant.

She still won’t talk about “it;” the landmine.

At night my tongue finds her, teasing her breasts,
her lips, her clit, with love, raw and urgent.

* * *

Note: after three decades of war Cambodia has well over 40,000 landmine amputees, 75% of which are children. In 2012, the Cambodian Mine Action Centre (CMAC) estimated that there might be as many as four to six million mines and other pieces of unexploded ordnance still unaccounted for in rural Cambodia.