Before Comfort’s Bliss

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Thighs sliding, fingers cramped, sweaty pores, moving hands.

Rocking swiftly, moving gently, moaning sounds, hefty taking.

Hands caress, muscles push, breaths grow heavy, lamps are shook.

Moving swiftly side to side until a turn brings her to rise.

Rising up from up to down, pushing forth, pulling out.

Turning over, once again, breaths do mate, fingers blend.

Kissing, touching, quaking lots, moving down from neck to next spot.

Lips do squish, tongues they kiss, elbows bend , her pelvis kicks.

Eyes they meet from eye to eye at first they see but soon they fly.

Enter back into her body, watch her glisten, feel her naughty.

Twisting over to one side, slides to hip, leg twined is fine.

Hair grows wild in his hand, pulling hard, faster again.

Moving closer, dripping sweat, to her forehead, feel her breast.

Sheets all rustle, bed does break, blankets fall and moans do rage.

Raising volume hear the sounds from one man’s push till one girl’s found.

Voices quiet, thoughts they bleed, grips of holding pressing deep.

Heads come closer, heat it rises, slanted mattress provides for driving.

Springs they rattle, muscles ache, one limb stiffens, one girl shakes.

Hurrying on, fast again, lips they meet, breaths quicken.

All at once the sounds explode as does the load as does the show.

The two embrace for one small kiss before a rest and comfort’s bliss.

– Thomas M. Watt

A Handshake Precedes an Indecent Request – Part 2

chicken dinner

“Alright, I’ll tell you everything,” said Joe. “I’ll explain why I met you tonight and expect to leave with your wife, for good. I just need to know one thing.”

“What?” said Mr. Huerto.

“You won’t lay a hand on Marie. You won’t hurt her.”

Mr. Huerto laughed. “Joe, I’m not the type to hit a woman.”

“I know,” Joe gulped. “But after you hear my story, I’m afraid that all could change.”

Something loud fell and crashed in the other room. Marie sobbed louder.

“I don’t hit women,” said Mr. Huerto. “Now on with the story.”

Joe nodded. He had a breath, then began.

“When Marie and I were sixteen, we were already on our third year of dating, and felt normal teenage rebellion was getting boring. We needed thrill, excitement. We needed to do something new, something kids our age wouldn’t even dare. We needed more adrenaline-”

“Why?'” said Mr. Huerto.

Joe smirked as he returned his glance to Mr. Huerto. “We liked to fuck on it.”

Mr. Huerto shook his head and stuffed a cracker into his mouth. “Just… just go on!”

“Alright.” Joe nodded. “So me and Marie, we used to devise ways to get ourselves as close to danger as possible, without ever getting caught. It started out with stupid things, like breaking into random cars for a quickie. As time wore on, we got all the more adventurous. Started getting stupid with it. Broke into houses, backyards. Soon breaking in alone wasn’t enough.”

Mr. Huerto swung his glass of water to his lips then choked slightly on his drink. He tried to muffle his cough, and when he spoke again it was with a broken voice.

“You alright, sir?” said Joe.

“I didn’t exactly plan on hearing all about my wife’s sexcapades with some stranger tonight.”

Joe laughed. “That’s alright, it gets better.”

Mr. Huerto darted his glance back to Joe. Joe went on.

“So the whole breaking in thing, we got tired of it. It seemed juvenile, you know? So we decided to do something different. We decided to start getting strangers involved.”‘

Mr. Huerto raised an eyebrow.

Joe laughed. “Not like you think. It was a game. A sick, weird little game-”

“What was the game?”

Joe buttoned his lips initially. “Marie would go on dates with other guys. I would wait for her-”

“WHERE?” Screamed Mr. Huerto, standing up.

Joe shook his hands and backed away. “In the bathroom!”

“And then?”

“And then we would fuck, while her date was waiting for her!”  Joe scurried away.

Mr. Huerto charged on. “You mean to tell me the first date I shared with my wife, the night you were caught raping her in the ladies bathroom, the reason you were locked up for the last ten years… WAS BECAUSE MY WIFE IS A SEX-FREAK!”

Joe backed into wall. “Not a freak, Mr. Huerto. Exhibitionist is-”

“YOU WENT TO PRISON FOR TEN YEARS! HOW COULD THIS NOT COME OUT IN COURT?”

Joe fell into a corner. He looked down at the carpeting. “You can thank Marie for that one.”

“Why?” said Mr. Huerto.

Joe gulped. “She said if I could wait ten years, she knew a guy that would give us sixteen million dollars.”

“What? Who! I’ve got thirty-two million but I swear on my life I’m not about to give any… wait.”

Just then, Marie sprinted through the room and towards the front door.

“MARIE!” Shouted Mr. Huerto.

PART 3, COMING SOON!

Thomas M. Watt

I Need to Be

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Feel your stare your absent glare your want of knowing what’s in there,

Know you sought to know me through, I’ve got not much to say to you.

I’m sorry girl but don’t you see these thoughts have got the best of me.

Would rather here some more ’bout you like what it is you want to do.

Tired of the thoughts of me, tired of wanting, needing sleep.

Say to me the things unsaid the things most folks so often dread.

You know the words the rhythmic blues the fear of saying just what is true.

I know you feel it ’cause I do to, I know just what is plaguing you.

But don’t you see the vision’s free the only way to ecstasy.

You hear me spinning words like that, that’s just to get you on your back.

No I’m kidding, joking please. Don’t mean to make you quake you knees.

Ah nice slap that hurt a bit I’m sorry girl I cannot quit.

Sometimes the way these thoughts expel like flagrant breaths through quiets yells.

Baby girl it’s back to you, tell me so I feel them too.

Don’t ask me what, you know the answer, it’s penned inside your heart’s disaster.

Show me pain and misery I’ll show you mine but for a fee.

I swear it tears me up inside, pulls my heart out, leaves me dry.

Please don’t go there, please don’t please, please just see I need to be.

Not quite trying, nothing cares, here’s the secret I’d like to share –

Hold your moans your throbbing chest, you cannot let me get the best.

Oh quit trying to play me please it’s all a game until you weep.

Sorry girl, you have to know, the thoughts own me I have to go.

– Thomas M. Watt

The Taste of Tainted Lips

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“Oh, Big Steve! Keep bouncin’ that ass Big Steve! Oh- Greg? Is that you? SHIT!”

The pan was already searing hot by the time Greg cracked his first egg and dropped it on. Almost instantaneously, the egg sizzled from translucent to white. Eyes weary, he used a fork to scramble it as he cracked then added a second. He thought back to the afternoon before, and let out a breath.

Darlene entered the kitchen. She caught his eyes and buttoned her lips, then shifted her weight to one side and shook her head.

“I don’t wanna talk about it,” said Greg.

Darlene sighed. “Babe if you just let me-”

“I said I don’t wanna fucking talk about it!” Said Greg, zinging the fork into the white plaster wall.

“But babe.” Darlene moved to his side. “We need to discuss it, that’s all.”

Greg returned his attention to the eggs, fuming through his nostrils as he stared bleakly into them.

“Babe?”

Picking up the iron pan by the handle, Greg lifted it high overhead before slamming it back down into the stove top. “Dammit Darlene, what do you want from me? What do you want me to say?” His chest heaved up and down for five heavy breaths, but she issued no response. “I mean, c’mon babe! How the fuck is talkin’ about it gonna make things better? Let’s be real here, you and me-”

“What about you and me?”

Greg shook his head. He picked up some of the scrambled egg remnants, turned his back to Darlene then flicked them into the sink. He turned the faucet on and ran his hands underneath the water stream. “We’re fuckin’ over. I mean, shit.” He gulped. “You know it, I know it. I ain’t gonna heal from this sort’a thing.”

“Well you could if you try! It was a mistake, I admit it-”

“I DON’T CARE!” Greg was surprised to find himself on the verge of laughter, even as his heart sank into his stomach. “Baby, put yourself in my shoes for a second. I come home, from a hard days work, lookin’ a grab a cold beer, maybe sit on the couch, watch the game for a little bit.” Flapping his arms up into the air and gazing towards the ceiling, Greg continued. “Lo and behold, I walk in on my girl messin’ around with Big Steve the professional fly-swatter-guy. I mean shit, Darlene! What the fuck kinda job is that, even? FLY SWATTER? You know you could just buy the equipment for about four bucks or something.”

“It was a big fly, babe, and  I already told you, I made a mistake.”

Greg put his hands on his hips and shook his head. “A mistake would’a been kissin’ him. Maybe even sleepin’ with him. But dammit babe, I walk in to see the guy sittin’ on your face in my bedroom, shit! I don’t know whether I should be more mortified, repulsed, angry or just weirded out! I’m out their bustin’ my tail everyday, and for what? To come home and see Big Steve over here gettin’ rim-jobs about two feet from my pillow?”

Darlene sighed, then came closer. “You know that I love you, Greg,”

Greg shrugged. “I mean, not exactly.”

“Aren’t you gonna say it back?”

“I don’t know, I’m pretty sure I don’t feel like sayin’ it back.”

“You’re really going to hold this little tiny mistake against me?”

“Babe,” Greg shook his head, threw a dish-towel down, then started away. “Just think about what’s gonna run through my head every time I gotta kiss you, and there’s your answer.”

THE END

– Thomas M. Watt

Dangling From the Empire State Building, David opened his eyes…

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Dangling From the Empire State Building, David opened his eyes. His feet were bound by the rope, and his freezing face was being slapped by the cold wind. Down below, the tourist were all pointing at him, undoubtedly wondering if he was a man or a new flag.

“Dammit!” Screamed David. He regretted everything at that point. The bets, the women, the drug orgies. He hated himself for it.

He suddenly dropped a few inches. When David looked up, he realized the rope was already tearing. His wrists were tied up behind his back. He had to get out. He had to break free.

Though his life was nearing an end, the knowledge of his past mistakes were stabbing at him relentlessly. As he pulled with all his might to break his wrists apart, his mind kept replaying the doggie-orgies he used to watch while taking diet-pills with all those scandalous house-wives. He never should have bet on Coco the weiner dog. It just wasn’t realistic to believe it could ‘do it’ with a grey hound.

“Argh!” David screamed, just as he managed to break his wrists out from behind his back. He tugged the rope at his feet, broke it off from the rest of the line, then fell with his arms raised in triumph before splattering on the pavement down below, splashing all the onlookers with a wave of his blood.

THE END!

– Thomas M. Watt

 

Sexy Can I

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Don’t be fooled by the dress when they dress to impress with skirts riding high and bras pressed to their chests

Find me the dame who dresses the same on Mondays and Fridays and plays her own game

Give me the kind with the soft setting lips that wets me with spit I then kiss to her tits

Show me that girl that on some days wears curls and on others buns up with high reaching high heels

Find me the eyes with the blue dipped in mine that rises and falls like a wave at night’s call

The hips which can bend first back then extend and the moan that I play in my head when with them

I want that girl who stands up and then twirls, takes to my hand and shows me to worlds –

Seldom have seen, few men can go, the place where you whisper I can come to know

Show me those thighs and the way that they rise when they plummet and bounce near my knees as I pounce and rock you too sway from the night to the day

Lend me your teeth and bite on my cheek as I wrap up your hair, twist it and stare from your eye to your ear to the short edge of square on your back when it’s turning inverting and rolling as you ask me to share

In your mouthful of ecstasy, of excite-filled bliss, of divulging your longing of pleasure’s best kiss. Suck on my finger, my hand at your side, be that good girl who in bed forgoes time

Press me your palms flush to my chest, bring near your nipples and I’ll lick to impress. Have at it baby, have at it with me, hold back that expression and savor loud screams

Push to me closer, ride with me harder, hands through my hair as you turn up the volume

Keep going baby, your pleasure is shared, as you reach that loud climax please be fearless to care

I’m turning you over, twisting you out, raising your leg taste your sweat in my mouth

Take in my push, feel this good feed, try not to yell but please feel free to scream

Keep getting closer, keep rolling high, I remember this evening when these sheets were still dry. Ride with my rhythm, your hands locked in mine, spin those eyes backwards with those loud bursting cries

Have at it my dearest, my best bedroom queen, thank you for cumming now get on your knees.

– Thomas M. Watt