Tag Archives: strap-on sister

tad

16 Sunday Dec 2018

Posted by in Poetry, sonnet

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Pain’s reign. Warm in my hand. We’re a relic
of those vanished beasts: sucked into tar pits,

etched into sandstone cliffs. We’re the brainsick
passions of gods. We listen to The Slits,

Cunt Clones, Hole. We say there’ll be hell to pay,
bastards going down. Promise or threat? Vague

reference to oral sex. Call me ashtray.
All those cigarettes scars: nebula, plague,

splatter acid. Odd shapes: relics tad queer.
Hard-core sex sentience. Wisdom through pain.

All my heroes have been old maids, spinsters,
bachelor girls packing. Those without fear

and old-school with their passion. Our freak’s reign:
thrill in my hand, tremors in your knickers.

you see the merchandise

01 Wednesday Apr 2015

Posted by in Erotic, Poetry, sonnet

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Carve me a toothpick; I have one curled hair
stuck in-between my incisors. These chapped

hips, this silicon knob with its horsehair
tail, these boots. Have I ridden you? or “tapped

your ass,” as Butch Lisette once claimed? Of course
not. Please forgive my friends, they are … so young,

obsessed with sending nude selfies. They’re coarse
little things, amusements. But you? Your tongue

itches to taste this, no? Peace. Come closely.
Pull up your trousers. Look out the window.

Be still, pet. What do you see? The merchandise
of lust; the night hums with it. But for me

I’m done with stroking needy libidos.
That’s how much I adore you: more than vice.

la petite mort is such an odd thing to say

08 Friday Feb 2013

Posted by in Erotic, Poetry, sonnet

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There is starlight and strobe in my bloodstream.

With my thumb I blend them in. The Red Queen’s
kiss is good to ward off a hex. To dream
about a pound of Amsterdam pure means
you think about the Netherlands a lot,
that and weed. I dream about my fingers
on your ass, in your hair, licking your spot.

When I dream of war my strap-on-sisters
make great generals. My kitties in cuffs
become brutal sword-swallowers. Queenly
soldiers stretched across my bed; these girl toughs
never suffer from post-coital ennui.

Why blue? Orgasms should make us all strong,
wanting more, unless you’re doing it wrong.

the first exile

20 Sunday Jan 2013

Posted by in Erotic, Lilith, Poetry, sonnet

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“I’m not a good lay/ I’m a straight razor,”
Judy Grahn, “Edward the Dyke”

There was no grief. The summer radio
played “you can have my husband/ but don’t mess
with my woman” all day long. Your afro
gleamed as we cruised in your Austin Princess
downtown. Playtime approached. After playtime
came dawn. Dusk and dawn. But you, drunk on spunk,
the first exile, loved love during wartime,
with your kerosene myth, junk in your trunk
and duck’s arse cut. Girls called you Liliti;
I called you my “mama-jan;” my surreal
strap-on sister. My roots and the orgy
where I was conceived. One hand on the wheel
while your other played with my head between
your thighs, licking your clit stiff and obscene.

o efebo

27 Wednesday Jul 2011

Posted by in Erotic, Poetry, Translation

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Rapazes bonitos em jaquetas

de couro preto. O teu corpo

é vodka em minha boca.

Um licor que escorre sensual.

Nada pode se comparar a tua dor,

teu louco riso. Tua queima almas.

Cu meninos, você seduzir

as strap-on irmãs — o efebo,

o efeminado, supremo, culto e glória.

In English:

Pretty boys in black leather jackets. Your body is vodka in my mouth. A liquor that flows sensual. Nothing can compare to your pain, your crazy laugh. Your burning souls. Ass boys, you seduce strap-on sisters — the ephebo, the effeminate, supreme worship and glory.

belladonna recalls

27 Friday Aug 2010

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OOBATZ. Pronounced oo-‘botz.
It means ‘crazy’ or ‘you’re crazy’
in Italian slang.

This was merely one more new delight 
for my horse-dick brother -- dripping honeyed
cum. He slowly pushed steel into my tight 
asshole until the whole shaft was buried 
to his balls. Then Dante began shaking 
back and forth, moving his cock in my ass. 
I felt filled, throbbing, my asshole gaping
as I squeezed him. Grabbing my hourglass 
hips he jack-hammered, oobatz. He and I 
then came: me for the third time and his first.
Cum and cry. That's all I did. Cum and cry
with his cock until I thought I would burst. 
That's how I became a Strap-on Sister.
Rudest of Playthings. An Ass Girl Lover.