Male Order Ride

 
Two flights away from sense,
his inhibitions were lost in transit.
Weeks of two-dimensional pleasures collide
with here — throbbing on the dance floor,
the bass pulling the cigarette from her lips, her hips
snaking around the beat.

Crowd play nudges him two hours back – he flashes –
seditious colors whooping, shredding sheets.
She drew lines of blow on his cock,
sucked white ice flames up his scorched back,
while a vast nothing snuffed his mind.

Now the lights crack through the music,
drummed underfoot at the Kokos club.
His gaze ransacks her sharply dipped cleavage
held firm in fuchsia lycra. Winking shoulders,
she twirls her Lolita lolly, topping up
her window pane lick.

His hands tense waistwards, tangled in
dirty blonde waves. He closes the gap,
teeth to neck, hip to thigh. The ache returns
for her throat, her warmth, her legs straddling
him in smooth long clenches. The wrap judders
in their veins, in prolonged pulsations.

Her name tag says ‘Sveta,’
his male order ride…











Another one for the crazy comp.



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