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crucible tolerance


passion too raw, too intense to be tame  –
the past tense of cum is kame.

I could’ve picked her up in a public restroom. she’s that type.

those secret nights with her plastic fantastic, she couldn’t
work up a decent fantasy: all she saw was killer impalers
loaded with man juice.

every good girl wants to be bad, & every bad girl is lonely.
lonely for the right lover.  she didn’t know the restless sinner
that churned in her heart till she kame to me.

made her reputation as a good time in the back seat, scoring
a replica James Dean, t-shirt & jeans, learned how to skyrocket
him to an erupting star, & figured to grab a piece of that thrill
for herself.

she found the fire that cried inside me, & she wanted to burn.

there is an essence apart from tears or the carnal emissions of
justified lust, that a man might deliver unto a woman. she
accepted my depraved offering, & if there was a drop left, she
licked it off. felt mercurial warmth as it ran over her belly &
down her thighs, mingling with her own release. when the
repulsion of it wasn’t enough, she fingered it, spread it on her
cheeks, tasted it on her lips…

she poses in a hasty shade of white silk, petulant face framed in
the rags of her hair; she shows me her tit, proves that her wet
forbiddance is still wet,

decadence in her aspect.  love in her eyes…


(Art: Schone Madchen)

Written by JohnFeddeler
Published
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