Written Review

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R18 + This piece is from my erotica and sex-positivity collection.

It is art, not advice.

If this is your first time I strongly recommend you click here for a content warning, and to appropriately frame this work, before reading.

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The guy seemed all talk,
promising to make me scream.
Like nothing I’ve experienced before,
He’d fulfil my wildest dream.

‘I’m larger than average,
my tongue can do a trick,
with my hands I’ll caress,
my moves are super slick.’

‘I don’t know,’ I replied,
‘It’s easy to brag,
do you come with references
that can rate your shag?’

‘Oh yes,’ He said
handing me a written review.
Promising that I’d be so satisfied that
I’d write him one too.

Now I had some proof
that he could potentially deliver,
besides all this banter
was starting to make me shiver.

Why not? I thought,
may as well give him a crack.
I invited him over
and laid down on my back.

With deft proficiency
he touched me everywhere,
slowly building up
until I was screaming a prayer.

‘My goodness!’ I exclaimed,
you need to work on your words.
‘Dam boy you’re underselling yourself,
at least by two thirds.’

He didn’t stop there
in fact he went harder,
pulling out the toys and
tying me down with ardor.

He taught me new moves
and positions of pleasure.
He guided me through new scenes,
totally at his leisure.

That suited me fine cause
I was enjoying the ride
and that is why I’ve chosen
in this poem to confide.

He may seem all talk
but trust me when I say,
that he will deliver on it all
satisfying you in every way.

I am in fact surprised
that he doesn’t come with a queue.
Hopefully I can fix that for him,
with this written review.

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This poem is from the book Kink, Volume 2

A Hand

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R18 + This piece is from my erotica and sex-positivity collection.

It is art, not advice.

If this is your first time I strongly recommend you click here for a content warning, and to appropriately frame this work, before reading.

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A hand to tease
A hand to spank
A hand to please

A hand to touch
A hand to choke
A hand to squeeze

A hand to twirl
A hand to push
A hand to move

A hand to caress
A hand to grab
A hand to soothe

A hand to abuse
A hand to use
A hand to suck

A hand to take
A hand to pleasure
A hand to put you on your knees

A hand to hold
A hand to tempt
A hand to fuck

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This poem is from the book Kink, Volume 2

union

exploring
the depths
of the flesh
by connecting
to the divine

a prayer
of pleasure
a wave
of metaphysical ecstasy
hinting at heaven
hinting at eternity
found through union
with one another
with oneness itself

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From Kink, Volume 3

i dare you

i dare you
to delve
into your depravity

to divulge
your dirtiest deeds

to debase yourself
with the devilish delights
and delicious debaucheries
born of danger
born of desire
born of the dark discussions
of lovers
who are living
only to die
daily
in the depths of one another’s
deep divine

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From Kink, Volume 3

my muse likes you it seems

my muse likes you it seems
she wants to fuck you
with her words

wants to pull from you
all
you have to give
and more

wants to share you
all of you
and watch the world
fall to their knees
with desire
for the woman
that evoked
such raw expression
of ink
across paper
that not one
could put you down
until they were done
and the paper those words were written on
was spoiled by their expressed excitement

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From Kink, Volume 3

Allure

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R18 + This piece is from my erotica and sex-positivity collection.

It is art, not advice.

If this is your first time I strongly recommend you click here for a content warning, and to appropriately frame this work, before reading.

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Your body
So eagerly given
Lost its allure

Yet in your absence
I find myself
Wanting
What once bored me

Familiarity bred contempt
Now distance is breeding desire

Why
Didn’t I fight
For us?

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This poem is from the book A Requiem For What Could Have Been: Poetry For The Broken

Thick Thighs

Thick thighs.
Fuck me eyes.
Bondage ties.
Leather disguise.
No compromise.
Pleasure highs.

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From Kink, Volume 1

Songbird

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R18 + This piece is from my erotica and sex-positivity collection.

It is art, not advice.

If this is your first time I strongly recommend you click here for a content warning, and to appropriately frame this work, before reading.

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Do I miss you
Or what you used to do?
Under the sheets,
Together we flew.

You were always so willing
For my desires to be fulfilling.
Without even asking,
Your every movement thrilling.

But now when I think back
All I feel is a lack.
I miss the opportunity to explore,
While resenting the sexual flashback.

Soon, I will find someone new
And replace the thoughts of you.
We will explore and play
We will love and screw.

But as good as that will be
Our connection will land differently.
She won’t be you,
Despite thoroughly satisfying me.

Please don’t get me wrong
When she goes I’ll miss her song.
Your tune and hers will entwine,
And I will not be strong.

No, flashbacks will still come,
You and her in a nightly scrum.
Memories of us fucking on replay
Leaving me numb.

Will I miss her,
Or how she used to purr?
Our nights outside together
Playing exhibitionist and voyeur.

But of course, there will be a third
To play with me and a safe word.
That tune needs another instrument,
Perhaps I’ll nickname her songbird.

You three together in my mind
Imagining our loving combined.
I’ll have us doing things we never dared.
Our sessions will no longer be confined.

Reality will become inspiration,
A fantastic memory dilation.
None of you alone could ever match
My new internal fixation.

In my mind you will forever be staying,
Forever teasing and forever slaying.
Forever I will have you nearby,
And forever your song will be playing.

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This poem is from the book Kink, Volume 2

love notes written in flesh

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R18 + This piece is from my erotica and sex-positivity collection.

It is art, not advice.

If this is your first time I strongly recommend you click here for a content warning, and to appropriately frame this work, before reading.

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bite marks
are love notes
written in flesh

physical poetry
carved onto skin
just waiting to be read

the body
made into a canvas
of aesthetic pleasures

a homage
to the ecstasy
of submission

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This poem is from the book Kink, Volume 2

Lips Like Velvet

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R18 + This piece is from my erotica and sex-positivity collection.

It is art, not advice.

If this is your first time I strongly recommend you click here for a content warning, and to appropriately frame this work, before reading.

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Your shape
Is
Hypnotising

Perfect symmetry
Complimented by
Perfect imperfection

An hourglass
That stops time
To all who can see

A device
Of pure
Synchronicity

Its dimensions forged
By the hands
Of a master craftsman

Eyes like oceans
Lips like velvet
Hair like a waterfall

Skin as soft
As a flower
Just bloomed

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This poem is from the book Kink, Volume 2

The Siren’s Call

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R18 + This piece is from my erotica and sex-positivity collection.

It is art, not advice.

If this is your first time I strongly recommend you click here for a content warning, and to appropriately frame this work, before reading.

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Heed this warning one and all,
temptations abound that you may befall.
A bounty of women just a click away,
ready and willing, no need to pay.

Every position, perversion, and pleasure,
every fantasy possible, fulfilled forever.
All you need do is open your phone,
press a few buttons, then get yourself alone.

What we have here are the sirens of old,
pulling men off course and taking their gold.
With their songs and bodies they do tempt
and not even the most pious can keep themselves exempt.

The Sirens would pose, prance, and start to sing,
they would promise to do literally everything.
Whispering deeds that could rouse the dead,
forcing all men to stop thinking with their head.

Now you may say none of this really matters,
but if left unchecked your life will end in tatters.
What happens when we watch people fucking like rabbits?
what does that do to our real nocturnal habits?

How can a real women possibly hope to match
the perfect bodies, boobs, or snatch?
Of those sirens that you can easily summon,
exactly what you want at the click of a button.

Reality is distorted by such perfection,
it takes away the chance at real connection.
If you’re hoping your lady will act like a siren,
you’ll miss all the sexiness that’s worth admirin’.

It’s not her job to put on a show,
yet here she is, and she’s ready to go.
But now you can’t even get it up,
not even when she gives you a hearty warm-up.

Then you’ll blame her for not doing it right,
for wearing the wrong clothes or not being so tight.
When really the sirens have made you totally numb,
sexually impotent and socially dumb.

But what does it matter when you can find online
every variation of sex you could possibly divine?
Do you want to see a nun sucking her thumb
whilst a furry sticks a dildo into her bum?

Just search a few minutes for a visual feast,
a few more clicks and you’ll be watching a priest!
Nothing in real life will ever compare,
to all those things that the sirens choose to share.

But forgotten will be the dirty words said,
or all the smut you have had in a real bed.
Lost will be the memories of true debauchery,
like how she used her tongue like an act of sorcery.

Or the time she dressed up in thigh high boots,
or when she chose not to wear her swimsuits.
Those things all happened, and they happened to you,
but the siren’s call has left you in lieu.

If you think you’re not trapped just take this test,
try going a week without observing a siren’s breast.
Don’t watch, or click, or view them at all.
be honest, how long did it take for you to fall? 

If the siren’s call was instead labelled a drug,
you’d be considered an addict, a fiend, a bug.
But because most men are trapped as well,
no one acknowledges their internal hell.

So, heed this warning one and all,
temptations abound that you may befall.
A bounty of women just a click away,
ready and willing, no need to pay.

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This poem is from the book Kink, Volume 1

Say Yes

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R18 + This piece is from my erotica and sex-positivity collection.

It is art, not advice.

If this is your first time I strongly recommend you click here for a content warning, and to appropriately frame this work, before reading.

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I won’t chase you.
I don’t play games.
I speak clearly.
I will tell you what I want.

Then I will wait
for you to decide.

To open up.
To flirt.
To play.
To submit.
To follow.
To let me in.

I will wait for you
to say yes.

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This poem is from the book Kink, Volume 1

Please Dear Lover

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R18 + This piece is from my erotica and sex-positivity collection.

It is art, not advice.

If this is your first time I strongly recommend you click here for a content warning, and to appropriately frame this work, before reading.

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Please dear lover
tell me if you know,
the words to say,
to make you glow.

Please dear lover
tell me if you can,
the places to touch,
to make you a fan.

Say what you will and
touch where you please,
but if you read my mind
you will hold all my keys.

Please dear lover
tell me if you may,
the ways to seduce,
to make your day.

Please dear lover
tell me if you will,
the ways to hold you,
to make your thrill.

Seduce me as you like and
hold me as you must,
but if you read my mind,
you will have all my lust.

Please dear lover
tell me if you might ...

Oh dear lover
I wish you’d stop there,
what I need is for you,
to not so easily scare.

I don’t know what I want
but perhaps we can find out,
make a move and watch,
let’s remove all the doubt.

I may pull back
but unless I say no,
gently try again and
we’ll find our flow.

Please dear lover
let’s experiment together,
try new things
perhaps with some leather?

I would go so far
why can’t you see,
please read my mind
you won’t break me.

Please dear lover
tell me if you might,
the ways to pleasure you,
to make your night.

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This poem is from the book Kink, Volume 1

Welcome To Kink

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R18 + This piece is from my erotica and sex-positivity collection.

It is art, not advice.

If this is your first time I strongly recommend you click here for a content warning, and to appropriately frame this work, before reading.

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I would like to take this opportunity to
Formally welcome you to KINK.

Here we make no judgments, nor do we critique,
We just connect over a shared link.

The desire for mutual satisfaction by
Exploring the many ways of reaching the brink.

We believe in empowered sexuality where
No one feels ashamed or afraid of what they do or think.

All persuasions and preferences are welcome,
We accept you fully. Whatever you drink.

Across time and space we connect,
We promise to bare ourselves fully and never shrink.

We encourage flirting, fucking, fingering, and feeling,
Or just a simple, coy, wink.

We value health and hygiene, so unless you’re into it,
Please shower so that you don’t stink.

We make no attempts to lie or deceive,
To take advantage, or hoodwink.

We commit to playing ethically,
With consent and care, we all stay in sync.

So, play freely; be you a top or bottom,
A switch, bear, fairy, or pink.

This is our pledge. I invite you to join in,
Let’s sign our names below in ink.

- Zachary Phillips

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This poem is from the book Kink, Volume 1

‘Twas The Day Of Harvest End

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R18 + This piece is from my erotica and sex-positivity collection.

It is art, not advice.

If this is your first time I strongly recommend you click here for a content warning, and to appropriately frame this work, before reading.

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‘Twas the day of Harvest End,
And the festival was in town.
Liquor and laughter ran free
And all sorts of debauchery abound.

The young and the fun
They played a curious game.
If you catch and kiss a maiden,
She’s yours that night to tame.

The girls would run from the ugly,
Avoiding them at all cost.
But when the studs gave them chase
They’d fall and pretend to be lost.

The older women played it differently,
They gathered in curious groups.
Trapping a prospective man,
Then together tying him in loops.

Bound and gagged,
The man pretended to struggle.
A big smile forming under his face,
As he began the first cuddle.

The wisdom of experience
Caused the women to learn.
To only trap a man of great stamina,
If each was to get a turn.

Now there was the curious case
Of old Jimmy McGuffin
Came home from the party
To two girls wanting some lovin.

They were hiding under his sheets,
Just waiting to surprise him.
Bare as the day they were born,
Just hoping to entice him.

But old Jimmy took his time,
He had played this game before,
Despite his age he’d do this well,
And leave those maidens sore.

On the night of Harvest End,
All persuasions are accepted,
With women donning fake beards and
Men in panties expected.

The town square was divided into rooms,
On each door sat careful labels,
‘Pain’, ‘Domination’ and ‘Groups’
Each with toys on pleasure tables.

The night’s pleasures were more than just cardinal,
Indeed the dice and cards ran hot,
With bets ranging from copper pieces,
Up to entire an farming plot.

Circles gathered for the cock fighting,
More still for the quarter staff,
Where combatants fought till concession,
And none attacked by half.

At the feast table sat peasants and the noble,
Mingling freely for the dinner’s length,
Downing mushrooms, riot weed, and haze
Mixed with liquors of varying strength.

But alas all good things must come to a finish,
Even the day of Harvest End.
For the tomorrow the town goes back to planting,
Sowing next year’s dividend.

And until the festival comes again,
Not a word of yesternight is spoken,
The town returns back to normality,
Actively stifling all their fun emotion.

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This poem is from the book Kink, Volume 1

Please Don't Stop

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R18 + This piece is from my erotica and sex-positivity collection.

It is art, not advice.

If this is your first time I strongly recommend you click here for a content warning, and to appropriately frame this work, before reading.

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‘Please don’t stop’
She wanted more,
Pain or pleasure,
She wasn’t sure.

Hidden desires,
Unspoken wishes,
For soft caresses
And hard kisses.

He opened her mind,
His confidence solid,
Spoke the right words,
Her body followed.

A passionate embrace,
Inhibitions confined,
Moving together
Their bodies entwined.

The final moment,
Arriving together,
The mutual satisfaction
Of lovers forever.

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This poem is from the book Kink, Volume 1

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Flash fiction

It happened suddenly and without reprieve.

She stands motionless as desire washes over her. The intensity of the moment engulfs everything that led her to this place. She bites down on her bottom lip in hopes it will stop the trembling, but nothing can quell the flutters in her soul. She moves closer, every step intensifying her desire. She feels him behind her. His breathing laboured as he grabs her firmly by both arms pulling her towards him. She stumbles back as he wraps his arms around her.

Opening her eyes, she looks over the edge of the cliff as the sea rages against the rocks below. “I know living is difficult,” he whispers tearfully “but please, don’t stop.”

- @verbsandvodka

Author’s note: This poem and story came from the three word prompt ‘please don’t stop’. I responded with a poem, and @verbsandvodka responded with the flash fiction.

I love the subversion of expectations that she produces in such few words. Thank you for letting me share you work.

Dominant

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R18 + This piece is from my erotica and sex-positivity collection.

It is art, not advice.

If this is your first time I strongly recommend you click here for a content warning, and to appropriately frame this work, before reading.

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A quiet word,
Will have you kneeling,
Implicit control,
A sensual feeling.

But before we begin,
You must share your limit,
Your kinks and desires,
And what you strictly prohibit.

The truth is clear,
The choice is always yours,
To submit to my will,
To get down on all fours.

Because ‘no’ won’t mean stop,
We are going to explore,
And unless you say ‘red’,
You are giving me more.

Your body is mine,
To bite, spank and ravage,
Taking you as I please,
With the lust of a savage.

I’d say don’t be a brat,
But it is in your nature,
Will you rebel or comply,
Which urge is greater?

You want to be taken,
But not to be shamed,
To push back hard,
And then to be tamed.

I will look into your eyes,
And you will say the words,
‘Do whatever you like sir’
I won’t have you by thirds.

And once we are done,
I will bring you in tight,
With hugs and lotion,
Talking to make sure you are alright.

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This poem is from the book ‘Kink, Volume 1