Syklar Smythe - Erotic Poetry

~ Hard Drive ~

Red patent stiletto’s,
Three inches high
And I
Am wearing a feather boa
Draped in angelic feathers
And a simple black thong
In a low black leather chair
Drapes thrust wide open
Like my legs, that beg
The pervy guy across the street
To peep, so sweet
Or watch him drop his binoculars
Does he keep time with me?
Maybe, baby.
Oh, that’s bad!
Porno on the plasma
And more yet on the monitor
I’m a media whore, and
Over stimulation
Is simply second nature
One red candle burns
Patchouli clouds my dwelling
Then swelling starts, ritualistic
My knees are bent
Between my legs, the looking glass
Framing cunt and ass
Like a dirty private show
Eyes closed, I clutch my breast
In the masculine sense
Drawing circles upon my nipple
The way I love it.
Caress and squeeze
Then clamping tight
And the pain is sweet sensation.
Tit-elation and I smirk
As lightening travels to my
Quad core processor
And the web cam starts to sweat
Although I haven’t used it yet.
But I will, one day.
Promise pussy cat.
Small black remote
And the hardware springs to life
My new best friend and gift
To a lonely former wife.
Slow… grunting….insertion.
Men hasten to this point
But slow is oh so best.
The embrace and resizing of me
Around a cock I love.
A wince and then the “ahhh”
The “Oooh” and the “ta-dah!”
It’s all inside me now, and I
Feel strange accomplishment
And retro 70’s accompaniment
His voice in sweet memory
“I’m going to fuck you senseless”
Assuming sense is EVER present
In this thump thump game of twister.
Mister, please go harder.
And right hand complies.
I shut my eyes.
Candle flame flickers
And my pussy
A new and shiny peach
The spot is just… in reach.
I’ll need to …
Clean …
The chair.
But, fuck…
I just don’t care.
I’m addicted to The Hard Drive.

Skylar Smythe
www.guerillapoetess.com