Loving Friend (Part II)

Staring in the mirror, emotions bouncing
like kernels in microwavable popcorn bags,
wildly jumping, pulsating, celebratory clitoris,
gazing at my sweating body, feeling tawdry,
loving it,
imagining how light-headed I’d “not” be if you were here,
instead, shivering legs keep pace with hurried heart beats,
designed to make each gasp memorable, awkward,
different in feeling relieved,
not deceived by ineffective size gone a rye,
taking term “quickie” to new lows,
toes tingling, room spinning, glancing at him,
nameless, stranger to these vaginal Jericho walls
come a tumbling down,
never mumbled words during interaction,
always allowing my coming to passing,
my cumming to orgasm,
my numbing to your phallic inaction,
thoughts of you now distracting in comparison,
polar opposites standing at varying ends of spectrums,
one flailing, one constant, strong,
one happy to depart, one arrives after the first is gone,
one short in concentration, one long in duration,
leaving one wondering with whom might penetration
be greater?

Later for debate,
better place new found mate back in his sacred drawer,
the “hummmm” of his movement calling,
begging me to explore,
need to hurry before you get back from work
expecting “faked” cries of joy vibrating
through out the house,
which reminds,
did I turn the switch “off” on my second spouse?

Loving Friend (Part I)

Cold nights, left lonely, laying, contemplating
our non-adventurous love,
simply complex is the sex-making,
impatient, waiting for additional pleasure moments
broken up by snoring, morning sunrises, cups of coffee
and meaningless vaginal compliments concerning
how “good” it is,
how “fast” it makes you climax,
how “long” it would last if a pot of gold hadn’t fallen between my legs,
peering down noticing only unsatisfied snatch,
hoping you’ll quickly catch second winds is pointless,
wanting the word “again” to have meaning,
if not, would rather watch doors swinging closed do to leaving,
you possess a love which is non-pleasing, advice given from these hips,
depart with the breezes I feel blowing between disappointed lips,
when standing over toilet(s) wiping
uncontrollable ejaculation running down inner thighs,
only six minutes, thirty-three seconds begun,
eight milli-seconds removed…