Happy Never After – Room 101

Just a quick 101 words

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I haven’t done this for a while.  101 words.  Sometimes a beginning, sometimes an end.  Or even a frustratingly pointless middle.


With rain running down her face Maria smiled as she remembered that first meeting.    Mother said that she’d know when she met the one.  Mother was right.

She loved his charm, that assured way he walked over and god that confidence. Her pulse still raced at the thought, the way he looked at her with those dark eyes and the things she felt when he placed his hand unexpectedly on her arm.  He was intoxicating and too delicious to resist.

“I wonder if he has a brother?” She thought tipping the final shovel of soil over his face and walking away…

 

 

 

 

 

 

A final Creepy Love Poem.

A fond farewell to these at last…

This was the first…

Then this one…

This the third


You’re the sun on my face

You’re the wind in my sails

My everything and my all

.

Im the breath on your windows

The rustling in your bush

Want to cut you open, climb inside

.

Breathing deep I inhale you, musty and wet

Hunched over your laundry basket

I squirm as my heart leaps inside

.

Carve you’re name into my desperate flesh

Your name drips from my lonely lips

I want to wear you , my corpse bride

Even More Super Creepy Love Poems. Feast on my cheese.

It’s a little jarring in it’s construct but love makes you feel that way. Right?

This was the first…

Then this one…

 


 

My love knows no ends, let us be more than friends

Oh let me feel your rampant thunder

Thighs spread wide

Im ripped asunder

 

Use me, abuse me make me your floozy

Touch me , take me , make me yours,

apple in my mouth

Crawling on all fours

 

You’re my snow white, I adore, and I’m all of your dwarves

Damp, humid, clammy, dampish, Drippy

Dewy, dank, not-dry and oozy

muggy, moist and slippy

 

My heart will rhyme until end of time

I am your refuge, come, paint my walls.

My pink canvas, your magnolia strokes

I’m your sport, use my balls.

 

 

 

 

 

More Creepy love poems

This one’s particularly bad. So bad it’s good right ?!?!

This was the first…


Oh let me feel the thrust and parry

your long sword deep and penetrating

piercing the armour of my heart

driving deep within my wanton soul

.

You are the marauder at my gates

the barbarian at my city walls

beard wet, wild eyed

loins girded in the skins of the moist beasts you have tamed

.

Lay siege to my heart as your ram batters my back doors

let me feel your furious love spill over my ramparts

My moat filled with your explosions

My portcullis trembling as you pound against my defences

.

Oh lay waste to my ladies vegetable garden

And run wild through my thick undergrowth

Take me, Impale me, I surrender

All I have is yours

Creepy love poems

Warm and squishy. One for the romantics out there…

Oh won’t you let me climb inside you

Let me wear you like a skin

And to feel your heart a beating

And to touch you from within.

.

What you see I want to witness

When you hear ill hear it too

When you nap ill snooze inside you

Let me be there when you poo.

.

From your innards i can feel you

As I’m nestled in between

I can feel your pain quite clearly

‘Twixt your liver and your spleen

.

Oh let me crawl right up inside you

Wont you let me show u love

There inside your flesh and sinew

Let me wear you like a glove

.

My desire knows no limits

And my love is absolute

Here its warm and wet and safe

Inside my juicy love skin suit

.

Beyond the night sky

In space nobody can hear your thrumbus go sploosh…

I wrote a bunch of prompts you can read about the process here.  This is my response to one of them.


Gentrax wiped his brow as she entered the room.  There was a look in her eye and a sway in her gait that told him that it was time.  She was ready.  As she crossed the floor towards him he gulped and stared and watched with a hunger at the way Dorenta’s thrumbus pulsated with vivid green’s and blue’s.

Tonight would be the night that their clanbond would finally be fulfilled and he would take his rightful place in the glorious caves of the forefathers .

Standing before him she spread wide her trill and licked her lips.  The moonlight flooding into the room through the opening high in the cave ceiling made her scales flash irredescent.  “Present yourself” she said with an intensity in her eyes that left him breathless.

Gentrax stood from where he lay on the mat of rushes that he had spent the afternoon preparing.  His chest rose and fell and his skellit rattled, warm and moist, and she circled him drawing a clawed talon across his splintle.  He bit his lip as pleasure flooded through his body.

“Are you my betrothed?” she asked standing so close that he could almost taste her.

He answered as taught by the shamen.  “I am your betrothed and my body is yours.”

Gentrax smiled as she cupped his floosh, gently at first, and then squeezed until he winced.

“Impressive” she said as her thrumbus turned a dark crimson.

She was pleased , Gentrax told himself,  and if she was pleased then surely he would prove worthy.  She released him and then pulled him into her forcefully.  Her body hypnotic as she moved, as if to the very rhythm of the passage of time itself.  The curves of her body brushed against him and his tongue snaked from between his lips hungry for the taste of her.

“I am yours” he hissed as she lay on the rush bed and becloned form him to join her.

His skellit was already in full bloom, the lips pink and full.  She presented her trill, it’s small sharp teeth glistening in the moon light.  “Lie with me” she demanded.

Gentrax prostrated himself next to her and felt the weight of her against his back.  Pleasure coursed through his body as his floosh opened wide and its musky aroma filled the cave.

“You are ripe indeed” she said as she took his skellit deep inside her.  He felt the small teeth grip him tight and the mox of pain and pleasure left him breathless.  Her talons dug into his shoulders and he cried out as he felt her trill sever his skellit.

“Sweet delight” he mumbled as she rose up over him, her thrumbus now inky black as the night sky.   Talons pushed further into him and he began to bleed, the thick green life blood seeping through the reeds and onto the dusty cave floor.

“You are my betrothed” she roared as his eyes widened and his floosh exploded from between the spines on his back, his precious life giving nectar pooling between his scales for her to devour.

She licked her lips and leanign forward hungrily consumed it before again leanign over him, her mouth next to his ear.

“You have served me well my love” she said, her voice low and little more than a whisper.   Her jaw widened and her eyes rolled back into her head as he smiled knowing that he had proven worthy.

As she removed his head he rejoiced as he knew his race was run and tonight he would join the forefathers.

 

 

The Last Summer

As summer’s end draws near my thoughts turn once more to you. 

I wrote a bunch of prompts you can read about the process here.  This is my response to one of them.


As summer’s end draws near my thoughts turn once more to you.  Though my memories fade into sepia tones you remain as vibrant as the day I first laid eyes on you.  So full of life you sparkled like the stars and oh how I recall that first time I saw you and just being in the same room as you simply took my breath away.

I remember your smile, and oh god the way you smelled.  Vanilla and violets, you left me heady and desperate for more of you.  Something.  Anything.  Intense and raw and without constraint we lived and  loved I swear even now were you here my heart would near burst at the sight of you.  No matter how many summers pass into autumn I remember you so very clearly still.

When all else has faded to grey I know I will still have you, and our sweetest of moments will linger, and I will close my eyes and see you lying beside me, the morning sun on your pale skin as you sleep.

Time steals such precious moments as thrill our hearts today and I hold evermore tight as all else slips from my grasp.  The way you move and the sweetness of you voice.  Even more sweet embrace after such longing when apart.

All these things are treasures beyond compare and bring such joy, though sadness often lingers close behind.  Green to gold the seasons turn and as I sit looking out I see the tree, old and gnarled and bark scarred as deep as my soul.  The place where you sat so many lazy crazy days.

The place where you now rest.

A symbol of my obsession, of my regret, and where hidden you lie alone in cold, hard ground.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Fatties in Space – Part 5

I missed them so they’re back for another brief outing. as a prelude to something else.

Part 1 is here, Part 2 can be found here and part 3 is right here. Oh and here is part 4…

It’s best to read those first if you like poems and such about fat people shagging in space. Yes I know that’s not a real thing but its just a bit of fun. Use your imagination. 🙂


Time advances, desire, smoulders where once was fire

and our couple are settled, content

And theyre into a groove, life, careers on the move

at they end of their day both feel spent

And they slip into bed, where once passions burned red

a nice book, cup of tea, striped pj’s

And he turns, to suggest, and caresses her breast

but alas now asleep, snores away

And he gives her a nudge says “I ain’t packed your fudge,

sixty nined or devoured you for weeks.

Ive not sampled your breasts dumped my load on your chest

left hand marks on your plump bottom cheeks”

She insists thats it’s fine, they’ve just not had the time

but tomorrow for sure, it’s a date

so he lies in the dark seems they’ve just lost their spark

rubs one out as he just cannot wait

Then he ponders their lot, wonders how they’ve forgot

the wild nights here on earth and in space

and he vows to do better, make his heart’s true love wetter

falls asleep as he caresses her face

Mmmmmilky

The post that is not a post.

M has served up another delicious portion of prompts for January over here.  This is in response to: “Milky white peaks charmed their senses..”


Okay so I started this but stopped because mostly it just made me sound like a perverted 15 year old.

I figured milky white peaks would be a fantastic name for a cowgirl you know, red shequed shirt with a white frill across the front, snug jeans and perhaps some rhinestone boots.  She was going to have an ample busom and there would be campfires and horse wrangling and baked beans eaten from a frying pan and oh the tales they would tell of her milky white peaks.

Then I realised that I was just thinking about Dolly Parton and it just felt wrong to write about her millky white peaks because she is like 72 and that is older than my mum and I don’t really want to think of either in any sort of…well just no.

Not that I would think of my mum like that.  or Dolly.  Good god what is wrong with you people.  It was just an age thing…

Anyway…I’ll try again tomorrow and hopefully this whole sordid episode will be behind me by then and I will feel a little less uncomfortable with myself.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Happens to us all right?

Of love and lust and gettign a little bit splooshy

M has served up another delicious portion of prompts for January over here.  This is in response to: “Every inch of his body sensed her presence.”


 

There’d been flirting and longing and deep admiration

he found her enticing, with much admiration

he craved her since day one and felt such frustration

her dark eyes, soft skin, sweet disposition

 

How he wondered if ever they might be united

a deep hunger he felt, he so often delighted

in sweet flights of fancy his passions ignited

to be with her his greatest ambition

 

‘Cross the room he did see her and loins burned with fire

watched her play with her hair felt consumed with desire

caught her eye, and she smiled and he melted entire

how he craved her, his secret admission

 

And quite sudeen she’s there and she smiles, says hello

introduces herself and it so seems to throw

him quite sideways, she laughs says she really must go

“let’s swop numbers’ her sweet proposition

 

One thing leads to another as things tend to do

text turns to call turns to date and then two

and he knows she’s the one he wants nobody new

time to kiss ‘spite nervous disposition

 

In the dark of the cinema quirms in his seat

every inch of his body felt presence most sweet

turns to face her she sees him her lips his then greet

warm soft bounty his sweet acquisition

 

Head and heart swell in her gorgeous embrace

and his body reacts and his pulse quickens pace

and then Sploosh he explodes quite all over the place

cannon-esque, with hot white ammunition

 

“Oh my word” she exclaims as his face twists in pleasure

and his trousers run thick with his thick baby treasure

and he splutters and coughs one last time for good measure

says he’s sorry with heartfelt contrition

 

So the moral it seems is to try take it easy

or your trouser will end up quite sticky and greasy

and all thoughts of sweet love be they ever so cheesy

will be spent with pre-mature condition

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

After party

Not really sure wtf this is but its something I suppose.

He waits, each day repeated forever hoping

All pressed cotton and fathers aftershave

Crimson wrists match carnation’s hue

And wet cheeks like blood red roses blush

At mere thought yet thought alone can wrench

And heart in chest does twist and writhe

then shrivel scorned and turn to dark

until madness claims him for her own

And with malady and melody sweeps away to cold dark soil

And love young dream fades slowly to black until daybreak once more

 

 

 

 

 

 

Jezebel

sometimes I just start typing words and hope something even half sensible emerges…

A heady mix of dark and light she dances

like gossamer on the breeze and sugar on the tongue

she delights, and in her freedom beckons you to follow

sweet whispers and soft words engage

and head and heart and form then with electric thrill

and without thought of consequence enslaved

to worship and new supplicant is wilful born

and freely takes his place in writhing mass of flesh

 

 

 

 

 

 

Fizzy Whizzy’s – March Prompts 1/31

In celebration at the end of a rather serious February

M’s writing prompts for March came with the following instructions:

“…set your timer for ten minutes and begin writing about one of the prompts listed below.  Don’t worry about spelling, punctuation, neatness, or anything like that; just write!”

You can see the prompts here.


 

The night was cold

And creatures old

Came creeping from the deep

And to your bed

Dreams in your head

They come your soul to keep

 

Long fingers bone

Into your home

The knob they slowly turn

And they possess

The things you bless

And for your keepsakes yearn

 

They feed on lust

Deceit, mistrust

On hearts so black and busy

They see your lies

Your burning thighs

Here come the fizzy wizzy

 

And as dawn breaks

Their prey they take

And never to return

Bed empty left

Of life bereft

Take heed and lesson learn

Cupid’s Conspiracy – In the Dark 20

In celebration at the end of a rather serious February

Another month of M’s writing prompts lies ahead. I did them all in December but was less successful in January. Let’s see how we do in February shall we.

You can see the prompts here.


So cupid woke in quite a mood

thought, “no bugger this lark!

I’m of a mind to be quite rude”

And out he did embark

In search of those who go unloved

Mischievous now his quest

With arrow true, pulled back, take aim

And shoot to lonely chest

With temper foul, his aim not skew

“Just watch this!” he did gloat

And stuck poor Brian, made him love

Old Barnaby the goat

And Barnaby he quite bewitched

His goat loins filled with lust

For Brian in his corduroys

Man/goat love now a must

And cupid laughed and watched them both

Their eyes and bodies burning

A love affair, a passion lit

A tale of cross breed yearning

And to his home Brian did take

Barnaby, who gladly went

And frantic loving they enjoyed

Until they both were spent

And Cupid clapped his hands with glee

his mission quite achieved

he made poor Brian love that goat

and goat seemed rather pleased

And to this day together still

their love endures quite strong

and they take turns at who’s on top

‘cos Brian can’t last long

Amorous affections – In the Dark 22

The devil made me do it.

Another month of M’s writing prompts lies ahead.  I did them all in December but was less successful in January.  Let’s see how we do in February shall we.

You can see the prompts here.


 

Gentle and tender his caress

pulse races, in his arms

Undying love he will confesses

He’ll never do her harm

 

She swears she’s his, her searching done

He knows that she’s the one

His roaming days are left behind

She’s his summer and his sun

 

She melts as lips, so soft and warm

Meet hers and deep she sighs

Her stomach flips, does somersaults

She’s lost inside his eyes

 

And under sun, both warm and bright

He knows she’ll be his bride

She bites her lip, and whispers sweet

“pop two fingers inside”

Red Crush – In the Dark 8

I thought perhaps I would turn my hand to a spot of erotic fiction…

Another month of M’s writing prompts lies ahead.  I did them all in December but was less successful in January.  Let’s see how we do in February shall we.

You can see the prompts here.


 

Love’s passions red

Thoughts in his head

Lies in death’s bed

And scheme

 

Unknown, she sleeps

through curtains peeps

and inslide creeps

She’ll scream

 

Calls stifled still

Exerts his will

And drinks his fill

She’ll dream

 

And drifts to black

No turning back

Now life she’ll lack

His queen

 

 

 

Roll up roll up get your steaming hot love limericks

A tale of love in the middle ages

This week your WordPress feed with be filled with the theme of love, and through my limericks and haiku I will attempt to fill you with some of mine.  

 

Once a fellow quite fond of romance

took a buxom young girl to a dance

he was charming and sweet

swept her right off her feet

all a plan to get into her pants

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

photo courtesy of me

Roll up roll up get your steaming hot love limericks

A tale of love in the middle ages

This week your WordPress feed with be filled with the theme of love, and through my limericks and haiku I will attempt to fill you with some of mine.  

 

A sweet maid gave her heart to her fella

but alas she was ripe he could smell her

from her feet to her pits

tits and girl naughty bits

but was desperate so chose not to tell her

 

 

 

 

 

 

photo courtesy of me

Erotic Sentiments – In the Dark 9

I thought perhaps I would turn my hand to a spot of erotic fiction…

Another month of M’s writing prompts lies ahead.  I did them all in December but was less successful in January.  Let’s see how we do in February shall we.

You can see the prompts here.


I thought perhaps I would turn my hand to a spot of erotic fiction for this prompt piece but realised that I would need to be serious and found it rather difficult.

There I am trying to create the right mood for you the reader but before I know it I am throwing in words willy nilly such as throbbing, veined and moist.

“You’re better than that Michael” I tell myself sternly and quickly follow it with a paragraph where I choose to toss in engorged, breathless and arched in quick succession.

“No one needs that, the 50 shades phase has passed” I insist (though Mrs Michael did go to the cinema the other night to watch it) before attempting a scene where a white cotton shirt is ripped asunder exposing a smooth taut chest.

I had to do a spot of research on the matter and by the time I was done my description of the smoothness of the aforementioned chest was such that it made it sound like it was that of a child and I quickly deleted it because no one wants to read about children ripping anything asunder never mind nice cotton shirts.

My browser was also full of dark curly haired fellow looking wistfully into the distance whilst their shirts flapped in the wind.

At this point I am thinking I will give it one last go but I found myself overusing the letter ‘m’ in my ‘mmmmm’ and realised that I had no idea what I was doing, the female in the piece sounded like she had a really bad cold and that not only should I pack it in and go fill the dishwasher or empty the bins but I should delete all trace of the piece entirely just in case one of the kids stumbles upon it.

I really don’t know my vulva from my Volvo and I wouldn’t want tmy boys having to ask why nice Mrs Chambers from number 4 was having her Volvo examined by the postman.  He’s a nice enough chap but not sure he knows much about cars.

 

Roll up roll up get your steaming hot love limericks

Dirty dirty dirty

This week your WordPress feed with be filled with the theme of love, and through my limericks and haiku I will attempt to fill you with some of mine.  

 

A comely barmaid from Mauritius

proclaimed “Semen is oh so delicious

and so good for my skin

and it keeps me quite thin

full of protein and very nutritious.”

 

photo courtesy of me

Roll up roll up get your steaming hot love limericks

Men…really.

This week your WordPress feed with be filled with the theme of love, and through my limericks and haiku I will attempt to fill you with some of mine.  

 

Chap I know met a lass from Djibouti

Eyes like sapphires and lips red like rubies

said he so loved her mind

but quite adored her behind

and was rather obsessed with her boobies

 

 

photo courtesy of me

Roll up roll up get your steaming hot love limericks

Chances are they will be inappropriate. In fact it is almost certain.

This week your WordPress feed with be filled with the theme of love, and through my limericks and haiku I will attempt to fill you with some of mine.  

Loves young dream at the alter they stand

the wedding she wanted, quite grand

three hours later all tears

full of champagne and beers

bridesmaid caught with his knob in her hand

 

 


photo courtesy of me

Screw you haiku

All things do not happen for a reason. They just happen.

Aah, those chipper people who always find something positive to say no matter what.  You know them right, the “everything happens for a reason” crowd.  Mostly I find that they say this because a world where terrible things happen just cannot surely reconcile with what they believe.  Not sure that catching aids from a blood transfusion happens for a reason myself,  and no there is surely no good reason that a kid gets molested or a suicide bomber blows up a bus.

All things don’t happen for a reason, that’s a load of bollocks.  Terrible things happen, that’s just part of life.  It isn’t part of some big plan so stop telling me it is because your belief system cannot explain how such terrible things can happen otherwise.

haiku10118

 

 

Screw you haiku

what a mess!

haiku9118Whilst I don’t dress up I do love me a great Con, and there is a quite wonderful feeling when you’re surrounded by people just like you.  There are round bellied bearded men as far as the eye can see and you cannot swing a Schrodinger’s cat without clobbering a bespectacled comic-based t-shirt wearing geek.

If you’ve never been to one you should go, because they really do embody the very best in people.  There is a distinct lack of wankers, twats, dicks, racist, -phobes or utter prats.