Missingness

Some people make a mark.

They make their mark on the world

or they make their mark on you.

Some even make their mark on both.

Then there are those people

you’ve come to lean on,

the person you didn’t even know

how much you missed

until they were there, but

at the same time not.

Filling you with a feeling of

Missing and Togetherness.

Missingness.

The funny thing is….

it’s not a bad feeling at all.

It’s a warm, knowing feeling

a sense of comfort.

Because there is no doubt

you are on their mind….

somehow, some way.

Good or bad,

happy or sad.

It’s you they think of

just as you think of them.

Such is the juxtaposition of

Missingness

Fireside Ride

Arching your back as you ride

grinding into me with reckless abandon

knowing my only desire

is to feel your depths

pulsing in release

as your flowing passion trickles between my legs

Buried deep inside

my finger massaging wrinkled exit

mouth devouring each nipple in alternating rhythm

as free hand does not neglect unattended breast

Placing your hands on my chest

your nails bite into my flesh

exquisite pain and pleasure

“Cum for me” I groan into your chest

so deeply it resonates through your bones

as the waves sweep over you

leaving a glistening wet trail down my sac

Grabbing your cheeks, I pull you in

with a force you relish

Cupping your neck in one hand

and pulling your mouth to mine

as you feel my fingers dig into your round cheeks

you moan in my mouth

my hand grips a handful of hair

the other unconsciously bruising your ass

and, I cum

 

 

 

Touch Me

I need to feel your touch

feel your hands upon my skin

 

Your hand comforts me

and gives me piece of mind

 

I can’t fully express how much I need your touch

it is not simply your hand I feel

Your touch feeds my soul and tells me

I am valued, needed and loved

It tells me I matter in your life

that I am a priority

at the top of your “to do” list

 

Without your touch

I grow angry, resentful and spiteful

which pushes you away and lessens your desire to touch me

and becomes a vicious cycle

 

Look beyond the happy blue

and see the pleading in my eyes

Look past the smile on my face

and hear me screaming for you

 

Touch me, please

My arm, my chest, my back

my heart, my mind, my soul

 

Your touch is what I need

to be the man you need me to be

Touch me

 

 

Swollen Pearl

Hands grasping my head

As tongue torments swollen pearl

Lapping at your trough

Pressing me hard into you

Drinking that which you provide

 

 

 

Scratches and Bite Marks

I judge my performance by the lines on my back

and the teeth marks on my shoulder

 

The bite of your nails in my ass cheeks

trying to moderate the rhythm

and mitigate the force of your climax,

to no avail as I grind my pelvic bone into

your clit with each thrust

 

Again I feel the burn as you rake my flesh,

moist and tender I relish the burn of sweat

in the fresh wounds you inflict

as you release your carnal desires

 

Desires I crave for you to feel at my hand

riding my steadfast warrior with reckless abandon

and wanton lust

 

Clawing at my scalp, gripping my hair

and arching your back

I know you are close

my shoulder buried in your neck

you moan feeling the glorious pain

as I grasp your butt controlling your movements

my left hand holding a fistful of hair

I let out a deep guttural groan in you ear

and you cum again, lost in the moment

My body tenses as I draw out

almost to the tip and hold

you scream in my ear, Fuck Me!!

and with a single powerful thrust I cum

feeling your smile against my cheek

I kiss the corner of your mouth

 

 

 

 

Proud Dad (Bragging)

His team is down 5-4 in the

bottom of the 7th (last inning).

My youngest son is at the plate

with bases loaded and 1 out.

He takes a called first strike

expecting a curve and getting a fastball,

then fouls one off.

Checks his swing on the third pitch

for a count of 1 & 2.

The forth pitch…… CRACK,

DEAD SILENCE

as the ball travels on a perfect rocket trajectory

to left center field!

2 run double to win the game!!

The team mobs him in a pile

in the middle of the infield,

the coach picks him up and hugs him

(which isn’t easy because he’s a 165# 15yrs old kid)

and a proud father sits quietly in the

stands and smiles with a tear behind

his sunglasses.

 

*** What makes it even more sweet (for a father,

because my son doesn’t give a rat’s ass [wonder where

he gets that attitude?]) is he is barely old enough to play

on a 15u team, but plays on a 16u team and is by far

the smallest kid on the team.

2am

2am and I can’t sleep

intoxicated by the vision of you

I run my fingers along your arm

over the curve of your hip

down the length of your thigh

drifting back again and again

ever so gently so as not to wake you

 

The last four hours spent

in the ecstasy of each others

intimate embrace

sampling the gifts we offered to one another

 

But now my dear

in this moment

as you dream with the musk of our love

lingering in the air

I want more

I need more of you

but cannot bring myself to wake you

as you dream of me

 

Slowly my hand drifts downward

to find a familiar tumescent friend

moving slowly at first

gently stroking as I watch you breathe

a slight smile comes to your lips

from the images dancing in your mind

 

You look so peaceful and beautiful

as the moonlight through the window

caresses your face

soft and perfect as you doze

bringing me closer with every breath you take

 

As you take a slow deep breath

I’m so close

we release together in perfect harmony

I lay there, satisfied, with quiet guilt

until I see your smile begin to grow

without opening your eyes you whisper

“Thank you for letting me be your inspiration”

touching my cheek,  you kiss me goodnight.

 

 

 

 

His Eyes (An Adult Sequel)

Down on your knees

my beautiful girl

He said to her with resolve

unsheathe my sword

and open your mouth

 

I want to feel myself

dance upon your tongue

and deep within your throat

 

You’ve learn the best

technique to take me all the way

pressure points and relaxation

are the tools of the trade

 

She knows exactly

what he wants of her

and never looks away

 

Looking up into his eyes

as looks into hers

 

 

His Eyes

His eyes

I look into his eyes every day

these days I only notice his age

the droopy lids, the red lines

how very tired he looks

 

But as I look deeper

I see a glimmer of the little boy

the fun-loving, happy boy of his youth

 

Adulthood and responsibilities have

taken their toll on the boy

and yet he yearns to play

 

The boy is in them

smiling back at me from time to time

as though from behind a sheet of glass

 

The child is gone

from the rest of his body

yet he is alive and well behind his eyes

in his heart and in his mind

 

I focus on the orange spots

in his right eye and wonder

why I never noticed them before

before she noticed them

before she pointed them out

she always noticed things like that

the little things that made him, Him

Unique

 

His eyes tell the story of his failure

his triumph, his joy, his love and his loss

 

Window to his soul?

I guess so, but…..

His soul is scared

and yet as souls should be

it is resilient and will prevail

he is happy in general

and his eyes show it

 

They tell the story of his life

when I take the time to look deep enough

to hear the tales they tell

 

The boy he was, the young man he became,

the man his is today and the man

he will ultimately become

 

His eyes define him

until the day they go dark and

rest for the last time

 

They are the eyes of his father

of his grandfather

and of his sons

they are HIS eyes

 

They are my eyes

for He, is Me

and I am He

 

 

 

 

 

The Job Interview

I walked into her office with no preconceived notions or expectations. Why would I?  I already had a good job that paid better than most.  The interview was a lark, something to see if there was anything more challenging out there.  Something to give a sense of accomplishment and meaning.

Things started off normal enough as I had conducted many interviews myself over the years.

– Why did you apply for this position?

– Describe your qualifications.

– What can you bring to this organization?

And so it went for the better part of an hour. The typical back-and-forth of the interview process.  Then it happened, the question I was not ready for.

– Shaven or unshaven?

WTF?  Did I hear her right?  “Excuse me” I said.  She confidently repeated herself. “Shaven or unshaven?”.   As she leaned back in her chair I could see under her short skirt that it was obviously laundry day and she was short on panties. This knowledge provided the answer she was looking for. “Shaven” was my reply, with a wry smile. “Is that so?” she asked leaning forward and pushing her chair away from the desk. “Of course, I try to avoid whisker burns on my face whenever possible.”  Walking around the desk she sat in front of me, legs spread just far enough apart so as not to leave any doubt of her intentions.  “Whisker burns, is that so?  Show me what you mean.” she said.  Instinctively I pivoted my head to check the door. It was closed and I presumed locked.  Putting my hands on her knees while looking directly into her eyes, I spread her legs until I was satisfied.  The glistening wetness was a dead giveaway.  She leaned in and whispered, “Well, prove it!”.  I took my hands off her knees, leaned back with an evil grin and said, “Not until you understand who the boss is here. Do you honestly think YOU are interviewing ME?”  You could have heard a pin drop in that moment.  Her eyes flared in astonishment, then calmed. “Do we understand each other?” I asked.  “I’m not sure.” she replied.  Adjusting myself to the front of my chair I instructed her to lay across my lap.  She did as she was instructed.  Placing one hand on her arm the other struck the first blow.  She winced at the pain and then settled in for the second. “Do you understand who the boss is yet?” I asked.  “I think so.” came her answer.  “Thinking so is not acceptable.”  My hand came down harder this time as she let out a yelp and a moan. She was getting the picture rather nicely. “Do you understand now?”  “Yes, I understand”.  I smacked her once more, hard, stating “You understand, WHO?”  “I understand, Sir!” she said.

For the next hour I interviewed her in every way imaginable. Both taking and giving oral instruction, probing into the depths of her innermost desires and dreams all the while fulfilling mine.

Spent, exhausted and in need of hydration we lay resting on the floor in a dripping mass of each others sweat and cum.  It was then I noticed the office door was open and her secretary was standing just inside looking at us. Then she smiled. I glanced at her boss and saw the most beautifully maniacal grin on her face.

“So I assume this means a second interview?”

 

 

Thank you bruisedbelly for the picture. It was the icing on the cake.  🙂

If you haven’t visited her site yet, do yourself a favor and click here: bruisedbelly