• hopilavayi: an erotic dictionary

memories of my ghost sista

~ the dead are never satisfied

memories of my ghost sista

Tag Archives: mother-son

burble

09 Thursday May 2019

Posted by babylon crashing in Erotic, Poetry, sonnet

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Tags

Dark Venus, erotic poetry, Mother of Sin, mother-son, Oedipus Rex cosplay, seducing the younger generation, sonnet

Older women with a weakness for boys.
Oedipus Rex cosplay. MILF and (not) Son

remake, “Down on the Farm 2: toys! noise!
and boys!”
You tsk, tell me that there’s no fun

fucking someone younger than your daughter.
Perhaps. But when you grind your rock-hard clit

against me I wonder — “Hot mud geyser,”
“Cummies in my panties,” “Spit on my slit”
—

you go feral when the Mother-Goddess
riots inside you and your words devolve

to sing-song burble. We all have passions
that scare us, madness from a Dark Venus.

She Who Blurs Lines. Riddles that I can’t solve
each time we revel at Mothers and Sons.

you say

13 Sunday Apr 2014

Posted by babylon crashing in Erotic, Poetry, sonnet

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Tags

age difference, all of us who love the erotic, incest, mother-son, poem, Poetry, sonnet

Not all housewives are hungry, but you are.
Not all home-schooling parents develop

crushes on their sons, but you did. Bizarre
as that seems, many dwell in and worship

at the house of incest. Lot’s daughters did.
The French have a whole genre devoted

to son-and-mother love. What we forbid
always becomes tempting. You are naked,

you say, going mad with need. It’s not right
that no one wants you, you say. But I do.

I don’t care who your lovers are, what dumb
dreams and fancies get you to sleep each night.

I’ve spent my whole life looking for one who
can be honest about what makes her cum.

witch-mouse

22 Tuesday Jan 2013

Posted by babylon crashing in Erotic, Poetry, sonnet

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Tags

bath house, Bedouin, incest, mother-son, sonnet, Witch-Mouse

 

I called her Witch-Mouse, for the dawn-glimmer
hung on her heels and the keen-eared, sassy
bat knew her by name. “Call me your mother,”
she said, parting her robes. “Call me Ommy.”
Her dark legs straddled me, guiding myself
inside; so deep that our pubes touched. Witch-Mouse
raised her hips and thrust down. She was part-elf
and part-prophetess. In the tiled bathhouse
all that she told me then came true. Outside
her small Bedouin daughter kneaded bread
dough by the wood-fired stove. But Witch-Mouse cried
and grabbed my ass and bit me until red
mixed with our cum. “Ibni,” she moaned, “my son.
I love you even more for what we’ve done.”

][][

Note: In Egyptian Arabic “Ibni” or “Ebni” means “my son” and “Ommy” translates as “my mother.”

dream, dream, dream

22 Tuesday Jan 2013

Posted by babylon crashing in Erotic, Poetry, sonnet

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Tags

changeling, cumin, Dreamland, incest, Midsummer Night's Dream, mother-son, Oberon, Puck, Shakespeare, sonnet, Titania

Note:

In Shakespeare’s Midsummer Night’s Dream (ii,i) Puck explains that Oberon, king of fairyland, and Queen Titania are keeping rival courts as the aftermath of a quarrel about Titania taking a human boy as a lover:

The king doth keep his revels here to-night:
Take heed the queen come not within his sight;
For Oberon is passing fell and wrath,
Because that she as her attendant hath
A lovely boy, stolen from an Indian king;
She never had so sweet a changeling;
And jealous Oberon would have the child
Knight of his train, to trace the forests wild;
But she perforce withholds the loved boy,
Crowns him with flowers and makes him all her joy …

And, as we all know, all is fair in otherworldly love and war.

* * *

Night is over. Dawn will end our affair.

Once more the sun creeps over Oberon’s
Hill. My sweet changeling with cumin hair,
sleep, sleep, sleep. Dream …
…. of ruttish nymphs and fawns.

Dream of your aroused mother who snuggles
you tight between her breasts. Your mother’s milk
is still sticky on your lips. My nipples
ache …

…. Dream, dream, dream. Under buttercup silk
and the sighing grass dream of another
night of pleasure. Little prince. Little joy.

I prayed to the gods for a new lover
and they sent me a lovely human boy.

Dream of fairy lechery as you lie
with me. Dream …

… of my lips milking you dry.

barcos en el mar

19 Wednesday Sep 2012

Posted by babylon crashing in Erotic, Poetry, Translation

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Tags

age difference, blow job, incest, mother-son, ocean, Spanish, translation

 

Que todos tenemos

nuestros barcos en el mar.

Nosotros les enviamos

a través de las profundidades.

Como el deseo.

Algunos han cruzado la marea.

Algunos son desmanteladas.

Otros están perdidos

en una noche sin estrellas.

Érase una vez, usted navegó

a tierras extranjeras.

Yo odio tu indiferencia.

No hay cartas que ha enviado

desde cualquier puerto.

¿Cree que es inteligente?

Soy una bruja que puede

superar el viento.

 

(We all have our ships at sea. We send them across the depths. Like desire. Some have crossed the tide. Some are dismantled. Others are lost in a starless night. Once upon a time you sailed to foreign lands. I hate your indifference. No letters sent from any port. Do you think that’s clever? I’m a witch who can overcome the wind.)

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