Erotica, R-18+

Here I am;
once again
scrolling
for love.

Digital satisfaction
of an all too physical need.

Did you notice I liked your post?
Did you read my witty comment?
Did you see how I entered your DM’s?

You notice
and you respond.

Watch as our words
steadily drift
towards flirtation,
towards fun,
towards ducking.

Laugh with me at how our prudish phones auto-correct away our lust.

You ask me if I can be trusted,
I say yes.
You say
you believe me.

An image appears.
Then another.

You tell me
you’ve never done this before
but you are loving it.

I believe you.

A video appears.
Then another.

You ask me if I like it,
I say that I do.
I say that I am close.
I say that I am done,
and that it is your fault
in the best ways.

You thank me
for giving you the space
to play,
to open,
to embody the sensuality you’ve kept hidden.

I thank you
for trusting me,
for responding,
for digitally satisfying
my physiological need.

We sign off with a mutual promise;
to play again
the next time we find ourselves
scrolling
for love.

This poem is from the book, Kink, Volume 3.

Read more from the collection, download a free copy, or purchase as a Paperback, eBook, Hardcover or Audiobook.

Erotica, R-18+

Hey there fella,
you’re a digital cuck.
Getting yourself off by
watching another man fuck.

I know your style.
Getting to the brink,
then skipping ahead
to finish in sync.

Oh, you don’t like it
when he moans out loud.
Yet you imagine being him
as a substitute for feeling proud.

You can’t get laid
nay, you’ve given up trying.
Why would you bother?
You’re too much of a shy thing.

Twice a day
you open up your phone,
grab some tissues
and watch a man get blown.

Pretend for a minute,
that you could do this in real life.
Would you play with yourself
in a room with a man and his wife?

Would you time your orgasm
so that you finish as one?
Would you picture yourself
being the one having the fun?

No,
most men would balk at the thought.
Yet give them a phone,
and their dicks will go taut.

They’re digital cucks
and they don’t realise it.
Nor their habits mean,
nor why they can’t quit.

This poem is from the book, ‘Kink, Volume 2’

Poetry

Scrolling For Love