#371) Poetry In Motion

It is a poem of free verse, my disciplining of her, my free-spirited lover. We are well versed in all the elements that structure this expression, we are fellow teachers, after all (though she’s an uncharacteristically undisciplined one), just as we are fellow switches, taking whichever role becomes the situation. Let me count the ways (as another poetess famously said), as I make her count the cane strokes…
In Imagery: She feels her soul is laid bare as I pull her panties down. I kiss each ass cheeks, just before I kiss them with cruelty, with the rod.
With Rhythm: Metered and slow, but building steadily, inexorably to its crescendo.
In Onomatopoeia: “Whip! Whip! Whip!” sings the cane.
In Personification: The lesson paints stripes across her bottom.
With Hyperbole: And it continues for days.
In Alliteration: She senses that this switch will strike her ass until her surly sass disappears or until she, sniffling and snuffling, says the safeword.
In Simile: She wears the marks like a red badge of courage, like an emblem of our love, transitory on the flesh, but indelible upon the heart.

To paraphrase one creatively crafty Dylan:
The force that through her pink fanny drives the lash
Drives our hot passion; that blast of the twig of a tree is her salvation.
And I am dumb to tell her rosy cheeks
My ardor is kinkily bent by the same fever.

To quote another wordsmith Dylan:
“She takes just like a woman, she fakes just like a woman,
She makes love just like a woman, but she breaks just like a little girl.”

A single bead of sweat trickles down between my breasts.
A single teardrop drips from an eyelash down her facial cheek.
They race each other like the rain across a car window.
Both of our pussies brim with desire, fur standing up on end.
If they aren’t stroked and soothed soon, we’ll rub against the furniture.
One exchanged look says volumes, as lips join, nipples meet, limbs entwine.
More words are superfluous.

(I LOVE this photo of a lovely lady rubbing her sex against a corner of a table!)

Now that I’m in a committed heterosexual relationship, I find that many of my fantasies center around lesbian seductions. What can I say? I’m kinky, and a dirty mind is a terrible thing to waste.

2 responses to “#371) Poetry In Motion”

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: