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Wednesday, August 2, 2023
Tuesday, August 1, 2023
Poem about slime:
"I'm gonna cum", he says, panting
The essence of orgasm is slime.
Sometimes you smear it around on your belly.
Sometimes you spread it on your lips.
You smell the muskiness of the slime that
you just shot out from the engorged
head of your own engorged penis. You
notice these details when you spurt
your own cum, all alone -- But tonight
you are not alone.
Tonight you, a sexy naked young
man, are in bed with another
sexy naked young man. Yes, the
essence of orgasm is slippery. Yes,
the essence of orgasm is slime.
It's slickery, gooey yet not sticky.
Smelly, and not in a stinky kind of way.
Smelly, like pungent ripe autumn
apples, slightly sour perhaps,
rich and flavorful.
Your tongue knows.
Your nostrils know.
They know
the balm of slime as tonight the
sexy naked young man in bed with
you gushes out a big
gush of it -- it oozes down
your throat,
soothing, smooth, gelatinous in its
slimy texture, the very sliminess,
as it were,
of the slime calming to
the throat lining, yet oh
so stimulating, in fact the excitement
of this kind of slime makes your own
dick hard again, and soon makes your own dick
spurt some more of it yourself, big
slimy spurts of the stuff, Ahhh
the scent of your
own slime
when he says to you, his dick in
your mouth, "I'm gonna cum", he might as
well be saying
"I'm gonna slime" --
You gulp, lick the
excited texture of his hot smooth dick,
suck gently the
flared-out edges of
his shiny dickhead, then swallow his slimy load,
he spurts some more of it
you swallow it all
he spurts another slick slimy glob of it
and no matter how much he
gives you, yet
you still want
more. As he gives you more,
you spurt some slime yourself,
you slime the
sheets, the pillows, the
walls, the floor, the
ceiling,
your slime the artwork
you present to him as
he presents his own sweet smelly
slime unto you.
--Carl Miller Daniels (August 1, 2023)
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