Kishani, first time with

First time we fucked, in your
Thick-curtained, blinds-drawn room,
I made myself lose to the streams of vodka
From within which you murmured, “Harder, my love”,

Eyes closed, cheeks flushed,
Hair undone in a fashionless mass,
And I rammed you with all my gut, for
You were a dolled bitch from another class.
Each hit, I could feel, brushing hard against wet walls,
Going deep into the slime, in search of your edge.

Later, you mounted me, and treated me with
Such tenderness — like a lost soul trying to surface
From an abyss into which she had fallen; trying to
Re-live a sentiment long unused, and corroded:
Like a desperate act to learn the male body how to touch.
You traced your wet tongue down the center of my body,
Slid your mouth around my cock; where I felt you twitch.

As we finally lay back, two-two and half hours later,
The taste of your tongue and pussy
Indistinguishable in my mouth, you sighed,
Rolled off bed and walked naked to the bath,
Your massive haunches swinging in disdain,
A dimple in your left ass, and with no word to my
Still hungry self.

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Kishani, while fucking

In those final moments,
When time had already long since ceased to
Make meaning, as my cock rammed in and out,
Sliding like a hound up and down your cunt,
You gasped and heaved, you held the bed rail,
You were receiving with abrupt moans all
The fucking from me you’d want.

You were, when I’d started the line of
Seducing you to your pants, just a
Self-bloated, corrupt, unaware, BMW-driving bitch
In red coloured shoes and manicured nails,
Abandoned by life, disregarded by the man,
And so — to drill you in you brought me home.

We fucked over cheese and wine and once
I poured a claret down your boobs,
Fucking you harder, stoking you with flame,
That you heaved, farted twice as you came.
Lying there in my arms, half spent,
I felt sorry for you, for a moment, for you
Needed me to fuck you to give your hole a meaning.

When we finally broke, you said that
My weight was not man-enough; that my
Cock was of a smaller size, and I read
The need to move on in your tongue, disgust in your eyes.
Your man had made up with you by then. You’d decided
To be loved, and to give love as then.

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Dharshika,her leaving

I crave for your bite:
Now, years later, I recall the
Sudden urgency with which you’d bite into my flesh,
Cat-like in earnest, teeth going in deep,
And you would draw blood from my chest and gloat on it,
Going inch by inch on a downward hunt.

You left me as suddenly as you came,
Leaving behind the memory of
Feverish hidden passages, of making love.
Your left breast with its birthmark underneath the tit
Haunts my mind, and your raptures every time
I sucked it deep, stroking it.

You’re with another man now, and
I can draw in the slate of my imagination
His nerves stretch, mouth hold back the pain,
And I can see you mark with the tip of your finger
The places you want to bite deep into again.
I wonder what memory I have left you with. I wonder
Whether, sometimes, you remember.

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Two Friends, fucking

You claim you two are friends, and
You wear the same coloured knickers too,
But, you always say just to use my hand,
And she insists in gasps that I strike her through.

But, you tell me, when I ask, in your serious way
That she has had initiation done and ripped,
While yours, had had you through all foreplay,
But, has not with a dick your cunthole whipped.

She wants me on top, and she holds her breath back,
While you sit on my face, grinding me in,
Making me lick through your heaven-given crack,
While she tells me to waste whatever come is to sin.

Between you, then, my study of human friendship goes,
From styles of dress, preferred brands to lip balm of sorts,
To what sounds one makes when you tickle their toes,
And at which point it becomes reverie from short, stern, snorts.

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Shanika, on a quiet night

There are only three distinguishable sounds
Against the stillness of night;
Against the pounding of hearts:

You catching your breath as I
Ram in hard, and the
Flap of thigh hitting the flesh of your thigh.
Then, the night creatures piercing the night, outside.

Just those three sounds,
And around my throat, like two coils,
Your arms hang tight, and I dance
Deep into you, and we to the deep of the night.

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Marya, a disturbing dream of.

The meaning of the whole world, Marya,
Can be summed up by your radiant eyes, or
By a single brushstroke of your smile. And that
Impression of your smile lighting up the dull earth
In all innocence and what’s virginal tells me
You must not be touched, must not be forced,

That, you yourself is purity and meaning
In a world otherwise lost to the dull and coarse.

Therefore, I am appalled by what I dreamed, Marya:
Of you meeting my eye with an earnest eye of desire;
Of my hands undoing the silks that cover you,
Groping inside with subtlety, feeling the tenderness
Blush and yield to fire. Marya,
I dreamed you throw back your head as I
Soft-nibbled the light brown flesh mounds
Of your Marylike nipples, slipping into feverish sounds.

I was disturbed how real it felt, though in dream,
As I traced down your fair, smooth body my fingers, tongue,
And how approving you were in your silent submission
Which only knew whispers, seconds of highs,
And sharp murmurs of awaking wanton,
As you let me move on, with your smothered, hushed cries.

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Marya, while reading

Barefoot, cross-legged you read,
Concentrating on a hard-cover book.
Softened, intoxicated, bare-eyed, I watch,
Smooching you, soft-licking, with every look.

Your sweet face is a rose that blooms when you smile,
The pout of your mouth as you bend over the book
Makes my blood run hard, go torrent and I think
Of the thousand times in feverish dreams you I took

As your softest of murmurs intense, dissolved into the sky
As I pushed you hard, on my lap, your legs around me loose,
As you draw me to where you’re warm, feed me with your joy
But make sure the conquest happens in the speed that you choose.

Barefoot, cross-legged you read,
And to your divine being, with love, like god,
And as if to show it knows I watch, I yearn,
Your soft, small toe, for a moment, nod.

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