A PASSION FOR SEX

POEMS

A small selection of my sex poems

© Copyright Suzie Mann

 

ODE TO MY FAVOURITE LOVER

I doubt youíll ever read this Ė youíd think that I was mad.

Itís just that Iíve been thinking of the good times that weíve had.

For two years I have known you, though hardly known at all;

We donít have long discussions, you hardly ever call.

We donít talk about politics, our jobs, our friends, the past.

Each time I come to see you I fear could be the last.

Youíre naturally quiet, I think a little shy.

As far as I can tell, a pretty normal sort of guy.

But when we get together Ė your lovely Ďwelcomeí smile;

You wrap your arms around me, and itís heaven for a while.

Thereís something good between us, a mutual sort of fit.

I know that Iím your type, and as to my type Ė well youíre it!

The way you touch and hold me!  The way youíre always hot!

The way you always want to lick my pussy such a lot!!

I love your sexy eyes, I love your shoulders and your hair.

I love the silent, gentle, lazy pleasure that we share.

The time goes by so quickly; three hours, often four,

And all weíve done is suck and fuck and lick and fuck some more.

ĎPure sexí is what you call it.  Itís always, always good.

It feels so right and comfortable, the way good loving should.

You know just what I need Ė you do it better than the rest.

Youíre my pussyís soulmate Ė your loving is the best.

I hold you in the fading light, and wonder at my luck,

That I should have a lover who is such a brilliant fuck!

 

CONTACT CLICH…

"I want sex; letís take it from there!

Five foot ten, blue eyes, blond hair.

New to this, so donít know what to say,

Fit and attractive (told so, anyway).

If youíre after commitment, Iím not the one,

Just looking for No Strings Attached adult fun.

Try anything once, but no pain or piss,

And if youíre a big girl, Iíll give it a miss.

You wonít be disappointed, Iím good in bed,

Iím quite well-endowed (so my girlfriends have said).

Iím not some perv, just a regular guy.

Youíve nothing to lose, why not give me a try?

So send me your photo (itís only fair),

Letís chat on the phone and then take it from there.

(No timewasters, please, or prossies or queers,

Just genuine single ladies!  Cheers.)"

 

THE SECRET GARDEN, PART TWO

A house in the country, a house of dark stone;
Beside the bleak moors, it stands proudly alone.
A huge house, with towers and stables and halls,
And ancient wild ivy enshrouding its walls.

Once teaming with servants and elegant guests;
Its heyday is over, it peacefully rests.
The rooms mostly empty, all settled with dust;
The front door, unused now, is seized up with rust.

The wind in the chimneys, that once caused such fear,
Is now a mild comfort to those who live here.
Though laden with memories - some of them ill,
This house is a home - a beloved one - still.

A barn and an orchard, a stream and a bridge,
A glimpse of a lake and a wood from the ridge.
A dovecote, a greenhouse, a well, dark and deep,
And acres of grassland embroidered with sheep.

A garden, secluded - high walls all around;
The garden that Mary, a little girl, found.
For ten years abandoned, and quite overgrown;
Condemned by a sadness to languish alone.

With roses untended, and blossom unseen,
And weeds going wild in a tangle of green.
Till Mary, young Mary, discovered the door,
And what was once secret was secret no more.

Now many long summers of childhood have passed,
With many uncertainties settled at last.
The boy who was crippled now walks straight and tall,
And shows no resentment or anger at all.

His father is gone now, and resting in peace;
A man whose life changed, with the help of his niece.
And she - now a beauty, all graceful and grown,
With needs and desires and dreams of her own.

Tossed, as by chance, at this desolate place,
Forced to look grief and despair in the face.
Yet how it's turned out she can hardly believe;
Now nothing on earth could entice her to leave!

Let's look - on this glorious, warm summer day -
At the garden where three children once used to play.
It's brimming with flowers, exploding in bloom,
The colours and fragrances jostling for room.

A sprinkling of birdsong, a background of bees,
A rabbit asleep in the shade of the trees.
A patch of thick clover, a fishpond nearby,
A stillness disturbed by a laugh and a sigh.

A man and a woman, entwined on the ground,
Their clothes lying randomly scattered around.
It's Colin and Mary, alone in the sun,
A beautiful love drawing two into one.

They're happy, so happy - it shows on each face,
Happy to be in this dear, secret place.
Together forever, they vow as they kiss,
Exchanging caresses that lead them to bliss.

Their eyes close - they don't see a dark shadow pass.
They don't see the raven alight on the grass.
They don't hear the footsteps, they don't feel the stare,
But - no doubt about it - there's somebody there.

It's Dickon, all rugged, and fresh from the moor,
From watching the eagles high up on the tor.
All flushed with emotion, his clothes all askew,
He catches his breath at the sight of those two.

He looks at his Mary, her full naked breasts,
On which Colin's head so contentedly rests.
He cannot hold back, he steps into the light;
He sees how the couple start upwards with fright.

He trembles beside them, his knees going weak,
He's aching with feeling but finds he can't speak.
Then Mary smiles up at him, friendly and calm,
And holds out a slender and welcoming arm.

He drops to her side, to accept her embrace,
And touches his lips to the warmth of her face.
But how can this happen? Does Colin not care?
No - Colin has fingers in Dickon's red hair.

Two men and a woman, as close as can be,
Discovering passion, as two yields to three.
Enraptured, ecstatic, and thrilled to the core,
For what was once secret is secret no more.


BATTLE

The door's pushed open roughly, the Husband rushes in.
The Master sees his firm resolve and wonders who will win.

The woman's tied and kneeling, her eyes are wide with fear.
She can't believe he's found her, can't cope with them both here.

The Husband checks his fury, and kneels beside his wife.
He can't accept or understand her preference for this life.

"Darling," he implores her, "please come back home with me!
This bastard's just abusing you!  It's crazy - don't you see?"

The woman sobs in panic, wondering how she can explain.
Seeing this poor man's distress is worse than all the pain.

The Master knows his moment, and reminds her that he's there.
She meets his eye and shudders at the secrets that they share.

How can it be that seven years of safe, romantic bliss
Can wither at one lingering look from such a man as this?

"She needs it," says the Master.  "She always begs for more."
The Husband flees, the woman wails; the Master shuts the door.

 

GANG BANG FANTASY

Twelve men and one woman Ė what really happens

One says, sorry, Iím gay.
One says, sorry, Iím being faithful to my wife.
One says, oo, Iíd love to darling, but Iíve just screwed someone else.
One says, no way, sheís too fat for me.
One says, what, fuck her in front of all these other guys?  I couldnít.
One says, Iím sorry but I prefer to get to know the lady first.

One says, use a condom?  No chance.
One says, shit..sorry..I canít seem to..God I hate these things!
One says, nah, sheís been around a bit too much for me.
One says, can I just spunk on your tits?
One says, well I'd love a go, but Iíve got to be at a meeting.
One says, yes please, youíre so gorgeous, come here quick Ė aahh, whoops, sorry!

She says, back to the gang bang fantasy!

 

HARP SONG OF THE NIGHT WOMEN

(Ack:  Rudyard Kipling)

 

What is a woman if you abuse her,

Heartless and cruel in the way you use her,

Couldn't care less if it means you lose her?

 

Is she a creature of joy and beauty?

Is she an object of plunder and booty?

Is she a slave who must do her duty?

 

What is a woman that you despise her,

String her along so she's none the wiser,

Turn out to be just another who buys her?

 

What is a man that his heart is hollow,

Failing to lead where she's longing to follow,

Promising always Ė tomorrow, tomorrow?

 

Is he a monster in evil fashion?

Is he enthral to some nameless passion?

Hateful and helpless in equal ration?

 

How can we work when our limbs are shaking?

Why do we stay through your endless taking?

How can we love when our souls are quaking?

 

What is woman if you forsake her?

Think she will do whatever you make her?

You can try but you'll never break her!  

 

MUSICAL CHAIRS

I'm flat on my back, experiencing bliss;
Lost in the joys of a multiple kiss!
There's one on each side and one down below.
The others are watching - enjoying the show.

The thing I love most is the way they move round;
No planning, no glances, not even a sound.
When one's had enough - has created a space -
Another invariably slips into place!

Breathtaking images, changing on cue,
Sweet combinations, deliciously new.
Huge rewards come to the woman who dares!
Oh, how I love playing 'Musical Chairs'!

 

FRUSTRATION

I want you, I want you, I want you so much.
You would not believe how I long for your touch.
I can't help myself, I'm completely obsessed
By the thought of your glorious body undressed.
I swoon at your voice, when I see you I blush.
What is it about you that gives me this crush?
My head's full of daydreams, provoking my lust,
And plans for your conquest; for have you, I must!
I'll practise seduction, use all of my charms,
And end this frustration, one night, in your arms.

 

www.suziemann.com    www.apassionforsex.com

Copyright © Suzie Mann 2008