I VANT to Suck Your Toes

toesI VANT to suck your toes!  Rosy, posey toes, dangling over the foot of your Victorian canopy bed.  Purple press-on nails, sucker’s delight.  Your left index toe is sublime.  I want to gather it in my mouth like a mother bird holding food for her babies.  Chirp Chirp Chirp.  Oh how I love the taste of feet.

You’re wearing the bodice your husband gave you on the day Princess Diana died.  I want to rip it off and set it aflame.  I VANT to scare you, but only a little.  Really I just VANT your toes in my mouth.  I can fit 3, maybe 4, if you push my cold vampiric mouth to the brink.  Push me, push me, Pretty.  I VANT to make those perfect toes glisten.

I VANT to swirl my swift tongue over your cuticles.  I VANT to taste nail polish, let it crack and crumble in my greedy mouth.  I VANT to bite through the tumor on your right middle toe, spit it out, and deep throat those toes until the sun rises and I retreat to the Shadows once more.

Darkness lifting reminds me of everything I am not.  I will never be a daywalker, soaking in Vitamin D, tanning my flesh.  I must suck toes in the dead of night.    I must turn my midnight tricks, comforting lonely night toes with my nurturing mouth.  I don’t VANT your blood, I just VANT your toes.  Rosey, posey toes.

Big toes, small toes, man toes, so it goes.

I drape myself in my own dark desire, my mouth foams at the site of demure toes squeezed into restrictive heels.  Oh how they swell, nice and plump, ready to be suckled.  I VANT to rub my gums against the edge of your sharp, glossy toenails.  I will toe-suck my way to ecstasy, transcending time and space with my mouth engulfing your foot-fingers. Give thee your toes, or I will sever them and place them in a tin jar, sealed tight until sundown, at which time I will inhale those lovely disembodied digits and suck them to the bone.  I VANT, I VANT, I VANT to suck your toes, live or dead.  Oh how I salivate.  Your tantalizing toes will submit to me before the Dawn.

 

 

 

 

Lumberjacked

sweat drips languidly from your freshly trimmed beard. gazing into its magnificent shrubbery, i realize more time has been devoted to its elegance than I’ve given to my own self-preservation. but to hell with survival, you are a pillar of caveman existence, your paleo diet feeding the animal hugging your rough edges like a fly on a windshield. your lips hide beneath intertwined shadows, hearty roots on an ancient tree. to caress your beard is to know god.

teach me how to worship at your brawny altar.  i feel the vice grip of your calloused workman’s hands around my unworthy member, oh how you fill me with purpose.  to love you, to be loved by you, rough and unrepentant.
you pound away at me, I am your piece of meat. You drill me, you thrill me, you own me.  be kind to your possession, but not too kind.  i have a taste for your scorn.
Ugggghhh.  Ayahhhh!  I hear the urgency in your groans as you approach your climax within me, muffled by the Bzzzzz Bzzzzzz, BZZZZ of chainsaws outside your tent.
Bzzz Bzzz BZZZ, UGHHH!  RAWR! BZZZ.  i look back at you as you decimate my dark flower, your essence building, building.
you erupt with malice, working out long-ago heartbreak through my demure asshole.  your orgasm Christ-like, you fill me with the very heart of you, your sweet milk.
you spurt, and I spurt thusly, overcome with emotion. the tears flow down my cheeks as i expel my demon seed.  you wipe them away with your flannel sleeve and pat-pat-pat, you burp me like a child.
we are lumberjacks.  we are brothers.  we are lovers.

Stale Flower

She wept for those hardened from their failures, her wisdom written in the eroded walls of her stale flower.

She wore her dick years with pride, her cavernous nethers decorated with the salty stalactites of lovers lost.

She smelled of moldy blackberries, a whore’s sweet scent. Sound out a warning, I’ve fallen inside.  Blown out and oblong, she sheathed me in her rotten essence. Who am I to laugh in the face of opportunity?