He crept in, drunk,
I can still feel his scent,
Gliding on my skin
Cheap liquor and rotten youth.
Glass ego and a hard receding manhood.
Stuttering ball of sticky drool
Blurted out the saliva pool:
“Whaz zha faaack are y-y-y-ou doing heeea?”
he groped my breasts,
Just out of habit.
And squashed them like stress balls; a touch so soft I never knew.
I let him fall on the bed,
Helped him undress.
Like he usually helps me,
Through my helpless, futile screams.
He was lying there in front of me,
Lying like a squashed fly
Fluttering his limbs
Too close to death to cry.
Funny, how breath fills our lungs and leaves us,
Yet, so essential.
If only the silly bone could be so modest.
He lay there naked,
Dirty and clumsy.
Wrinkly eyes, Squishy belly, dangling breasts,
Limping manhood and the stories of it’s adventurous quests.
Drunk remains of a gorgeous brute
Blabbering unintelligible words of love,
Murmuring silly romantic songs.
So romantic, they haunt the Gods above.
I still find it hard to believe,
This is the man of my scariest dreams;
My dreaded, beautiful nightmares.
The prince charming who swept me off my feet,
And the rest is between him and my left butt cheek.
Ten months and seven days,
I’ve been fucked a million ways.
Thousand things have been inside
My holy sanctuary, utmost divine.
Three saplings have been uprooted,
Twice I tried to fly.
A healthy dose of slaps and drags
and I decided otherwise.
Sure we have a little differences,
But I and my husband manage just fine.