Raadha, an early encounter

The juices that wet the bilabials of her vulva
Brings her to life, sets me on fire.
As water nourishes the waiting earth,
I hunger after the wetness
As erection permits me to bend.

Her eye are closed, and her moanful rhythm
Calls to attention all lust
That assembles in each atom.
Her fingers of one hand crouch to a fist,
And the other holds firm my hair, in zest.

Raadha, I have had you, against all odds.
The tip of this hole that I burrow into
Is as far as the dreams of the world would get.
Tonight, I enter deep into you,
And you have made it my right.

The father that looked after you died, Raadha.
And now you are alone and you make
The choices that women must make.
Coyly you have let me in, against all your father’s teaching
And you have made me your master, spreading it out for me to have.

So, my lips rustling the side of your neck,
My weight pinning you down,
My hands possessive of the abundant flesh of your boobs,
I enter you, a heavy sodden root deep into earth,
As I release myself in you, making you mine.

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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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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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Ru, the first time

“What am I doing, here?” and
In the fast fading light there is
Still some room for philosophy:
“You need me. I need you, alright?”
And you give a nervous shrug and make a grunt
As I hold back my hunger to take your cunt.
“We needed this, that’s why we’re here” — and
You look far away into the scenery.
Stepping over the lines is not easy for you
Who is his and his alone; a paragon of virtue.
So, I pull you close to me and hold your face in my hands.

I remember that day, as Moses remembers God’s voice.
Every tremor of your unused person, twisting and turning
In the first encounter with the stranger’s touch.
Lips locking on lips, on the side of your neck,
Sliding down to caress, kiss, suck and bite each
Delicious full breast from each. Your first
Unsure moves to pull me up, grabbing my head, to keep
My downward moves in check. But those
Thighs I’ve hungered for, from the first day we’ve met,
For those inner flanks I’ve waited too long
That I promised you I would do you no wrong
When I crossed your vaginal lips with my cunt-hungry lips.

You were guilty, later, that him you have wronged,
That I reminded you he was my friend too, all along.
That, though the world may not see us together as fit,
That, this had to happen this way – and that, this is it.
You were happy with my reasoning and making bold
I kiss your neck, draw you close, you sigh and tighten your hold.
Your half pruned tuft, wet and delicious to the touch
Touches my half slumbered cockerel who eagerly twitch.
You pin me down, swivel, rise on my lap, grab it, squeezing it soft,
Run the other hand up and down on me, pinch me slow; then, rough.
I stroke through your hair, which to the shoulder falls,
You kiss my ear and you whisper, you want my balls.

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