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Fifty-one Erotic Haiku - Printable Version +- Story-Portal (https://time-tales.af/storys) +-- Forum: Poesie & Pic´s (https://time-tales.af/storys/forumdisplay.php?fid=3) +--- Forum: Poesie-Ecke (https://time-tales.af/storys/forumdisplay.php?fid=4) +--- Thread: Fifty-one Erotic Haiku (/showthread.php?tid=3085) |
Fifty-one Erotic Haiku - WMASG - 12-30-2025 .i. Our hours together after days apart. Spent how? In intimacy. .ii. Who can count the times? They far outstrip the strokes dealt till passion’s sated. .iii. Rough sex is such fun for both of us. Gentleness, too, is exquisite. .iv. Holding him feels best: a quick hug outdoors, asleep, or fucking him hard. .v. A real man, virile, all man… and when I fuck him more man than ever. .vi. Eyes ached for a kiss. Lips brushed. Teeth parted, tongues touched. Hands pressed neck and rump. .vii. Undoing buttons. Undress each other and kiss revealed skin laid bare. .viii. The naked glory of a man: his muscled arms, chest, belly, hips, sex. .ix. A single futon on the floor: there we bed down together; love, rest. .x. Poised over bare skin, my approaching lips bestir his humid tangle. .xi. Penis in repose. Jewels pillow a large head. A languid yawn stirs. .xii. White as a parsnip, red as a Spanish onion, burning like pepper. .xiii. I want to see you naked! Push back your hood! Crane your neck! Don’t be shy! .xiv. No more modesty. A tickle of hair, his strength beneath it, his smell. .xv. Spring. Clear sap rises in the living wood. My tongue collects the syrup. .xvi. Recumbent, supine, legs flung wide in loving trust, my manhood wakes… waits. .xvii. His tongue on my neck, the soft windfall of his breath across my nipples, .xviii. his head that passes an inch above my belly, too, I feel near me, .xix. and my groin awaits his return, remembering our last time. Melt down. .xx. He lingers, lipping the hollow behind my knee, then moves up my thigh. .xxi. Where will his tongue fall next? What part will he thrill? When will he take my shaft? .xxii. Crouched, the momentum of his rocking frame propels his passion through me. .xxiii. His warm mouth inspires sweet, unbearable desire to loose mine on him. .xxiv. His throat gapes, accepts, lodges the head, his eyes moist with suffocation. .xxv. Come lie above me! Hold me body to body! Press your lips to mine! .xxvi. Slide aside. Now hide your face in the pillow there, for my turn has come. .xxvii. The breadth of his back. Its stretch of open prairie spurs me to gallop. .xxviii. Nuzzling his melons. The valley parts. I eat ass for hours. Comfort food. .xxix. Lovely derrière! Oh! Oh! Lovely derrière, lovely derrière… .xxx. Warmth flows from prostate to portal. You’re not in me, but I feel you there. .xxxi. The gold nugget lodged in a sunless mineshaft spreads imperious warmth. .xxxii. A shielded candle, its light caressing the wall of a dark hallway. .xxxiii. The jolt of union. Fanfare. Trombone glissandos. Two bodies, one joy. .xxxiv. I said it first. Then you said you love me. Once… twice… my dick deep in you. .xxxv. As he scales the heights, new chords are struck. His moaning trails off in sweet song. .xxxvi. “Yes! Lift into me and meet my piercing hardness with a grip of steel.” .xxxvii. “Drive it home… Oh yes! Make me feel the urgency of mounting passion.” .xxxviii. “Here, take my finger. To stifle your ecstasy, suck it, gnaw it. Hush!” .xxxix. Man sweat’s acrid taste; solid male body. Noises of a man ass-fucked. .xl. Prone, his lover’s length draped like a lined winter cloak from neck to ankles. .xli. All fours. Crouched behind, legs spread wide around buttocks hauled back and impaled. .xlii. Wrists pinned by his ears, shouldering two men’s weight, knees hovering above. .xliii. Straddled, ridden, spurred, hands pressing on his withers, elbows locked, bareback. .xliv. On his side, embraced, mouthed between the shoulder blades, attacked from below. .xlv. Slam! Slam! Slam! Slam! Slam! Oh, my God! Yes! Slam! Don’t stop! More! Fuck me! Slam! Oh! .xlvi. Hearts rise to the throat. The mating cries of werewolves resound in the night. .xlvii Guts contract and squeeze involuntary gushes from a living pump. .xlviii. The floodgates open. Pulsing surge of red tantra. Waves of white pleasure. .xlix. The translucent threads of alien dimensions invade, encompass. .l. Cessation of self. Sighs subside and sex softens and souls separate. .li. Salt smell at ebb tide. Breath returns. Restraints loosen. Matted, wet. Becalmed. |