deepundergroundpoetry.com

Posh Sex in a Derelict House

The house � � � �
was strictly Leytonstone � � � �
decades past its prime & already on its knees � � � � �
a clapped out whore begging for mercy � � � �
awaiting one last fuck � � � � �
from the steel of the demolition ball � � � �
� � � � �
The girl � � � � �
was wannabe Mayfair � � � �
suited for business � � � �
part of the cocktail set � � � � �
fresh figleaves lingerie � � � �
teasing the skimpiest whimper � � � � �
from slender stockinged legs � � � �
clasping authority firmly � � � � �
by the cheek of her walk � � � �
� � � � �
After I made certain � � � � �
it was safe to enter � � � �
I led her carefully inside � � � �
beyond what remained of the battered front door � � � �
precarious on rusty hinges � � � � �
stripped to a single screw � � � � �
� � � � �
She squealed at the welcome from a loose board � � � �
dirty water cascading down a wall � � � �
& when something dark � � � � �
scuttled away in search of shadows � � � �
she gripped my arm tightly � � � �
as we picked a path around thick cobwebs � � � � �
lining the hallway in a dust filled yawn � � � �
� � � � �
She wondered about the people � � � � �
who had once lived here � � � � �
what had become of their dreams � � � �
& how it might feel to abandon hope � � � �
� � � � �
And when she didn't let go of my arm � � � �
I couldn't help wondering myself-- � � � �
Did they leave a bed upstairs � � � �
& if another type of damp � � � �
would squirt & gush � � � �
to a flood of ecstasy � � � �
from the ache I was sensing � � � � �
between her legs � � � � �
� � � � �
Using verbal slowmo �
for the benefit of my mates � � � � �
in the pub that night � � � �
I played out the fall of her panties� � �
� � � �
The freeze frame in my head � � � � �
working overtime over a pint � � � � �
to capture the deft untangling movement � � � � �
she needed for their rescue � � � � �
as they slipped helplessly
towards the jaws � � � � �
of the debris-littered floor � � � �
� � � � �
I recounted how she blushed � � � � �
& wrinkled her dainty nose � � � �
scooping them up with a gasp � � � �
before scrunching them into a fist � � � � �
& the safety of her luxury leather bag � � � �
� � � � �
Dutifully I raised my glass � � � � �
& drank to the tight blue skirt � � � �
hiked high around her waist � � � �
expensive stockings � � � � �
clinging desperately to her thighs � � � �
thinking bitterly � � � �
I must let them be � � � �
because sadly � � � �
there was just � � �
not enough time to appreciate fully
how silky they were � � � �
� � � � �
I could smell her gash � � � �
screaming urgently � � � �
much louder & more ragged � � � �
than the gaping holes in the roof � � � � �
The unmistakeable : � � � �
"Oh, God yes, � � � � �
Fuck me now, pleeease..." � � � �
� � � � �
Explaining the way it felt to my mates � � � � �
I put it like this: � � � � �
'Whoever she is � � � � �
& wherever she finds herself � � � �
if the pink glistens � � � � �
then she's ready to surrender � � � �
& in that moment nothing else matters � � � �
She'll always be driven � � � �
hard � � � � �
by the same burning desire.' � � � �
� � � � �
They nodded in agreement � � � �
as I slid in the first of my fingers � � � �
probing for the wettest & warmest corner � � � �
Her sexual autopilot burning air � � � �
more brutally than Concorde with its supercharger � � � �
on high � � � �
� � � � �
She threw back her head � � � � �
in the rumble of take off � � � �
meek as a kitten � � � �
numb with pleasure � � � �
purring out posh little moans � � � �
gazing at the slipstream in my eyes � � � �
while I fumbled clumsily to free my zip � � �
� � � � �
But then even quicker � � � � �
her voice sent me floundering back to earth � � � �
its tone meaner � �
& more vicious � � � �
than a well timed kick in the balls: � � � �
� � � � �
"Hell of a lot of work � � � �
but ripe for development � � � �
could be great potential... � � � �
I think I'd like to put in � � � � �
an offer." � � � �
� � � � �
I didn't mention that last bit-- � � � �
thought it best not to tell them � � � �
to protect my bragging rights � � � �
whenever I'm � � �
down the pub.