She smiles and giggles at how i repurpose my shirt ties into handcuffs and a blindfold with some basic knotwork.

She’s bound, tied and blind but not fearing for her life.

Curled toes and moans followed by grins indicate the reaching of a limit.

Excitement takes ahold and what escapes me looks like ropes across her body.

Further securing the visual bondage.


Covered in Paint

You choke the shaft of the brush,

wet the tip with what looks like spit

and begin to stroke.

I blush and hush my screams,

from seeing the streaking paint cream,

leaking onto your fists.

Yet you maintain a firm grip and

giggle at how I’m stoked

from your every brushstroke.

You’re talented, creative and reckless

when you allow the paint to spray onto your canvas.

You finger paint with the clumped up droplets and

smile at the masterpiece you accomplished.

While ignoring the paint sprinkled around your eye sockets.

Backseat ABG

Gripping thighs, bent over grinding,

embracing bodies and hearts pounding.

Eyes trace your face, tongues dance with a mouthful embrace

and blissful kisses surrogate what heart’s wish to communicate.

Call n response without speaking, our fellacious conversation

has my mental peaking and erect at attention.

Because through motion our souls are sensationally connected.

Biting lips paired with lustful stares are exchanged and

you got me higher than I’ve ever been.

Biddy-da-dum, you got me boo’d up and stoned like a biblical whoore.

Saddled up, thrusting and palms suffocating your moaning.

Your hands touching the ceiling,

to find your balance while face-sitting.

I’m elatedly happy,

I can’t control my anxiety,

when we say simultaneously

“I can’t get over thee…”

My heart’s dancing and truck’s suspensions shaking

to the rhythm of this Asian baby girl’s feelings.

Kreteks After Sex

I order my taksi and step out the hotel doors to explore the galore of Indonesian folklore and beauty. The air is impregnated by the smoke of crackling clove scented cigarettes; they’re called kreteks, everyone and their mother smokes them. Through the cackling crowds of football hooligans I see my Blue Bird’s chauffer approaching, waving his phone to make sure I’m the foreigner who booked him. We hop into his whip and zip to my destination; his chariot weaves through cars, cyclist and avoids hitting mopeds carrying two ladies n three babies. He turns and says, “No worry, here in Java we all in a hurry.” 700 Rupiahs took me to the heart of Pondok Indah. Its picturesque and unique, filled with sweet hijab wearing queens that throw smiles and meaningful gestures that leave me gawking n weak. I prop up at a local coffee spot and initiate small talk with the waitress, she answered my questions, gave her recommendations and suggestions. Tables across, in no hinder, her snickering coworkers yell, “You should download Tinder!”

Connecting to the wifi, my new friend and I begin to build my superficially vile profile. Fotos of me were cherry-picked and rearranged to guarantee that my presence is seen. I thank her for the assist and she wishes me a safe trek. Smiling and swiping away, my gaze is dazed by the gratuitous splendor in 5-kilometer radius. Two swipes left, one right and a connection was erected, by a tremendous slender framed dame, with innocently bright eyes and a magnificently intriguing smile. Her red lipstick accents her scrumptious melanin and I’m gaped in awe questioning if what I just saw is real at all. Words are exchanged, basic information is fed and the jokes said poke at the possibility for us two to meet. Moments later, she agrees and we set our sights for rendezvousing at Saigon Delight.

I sit, wait for my anticipated date and to reduce confusion I text her what I’m sporting. {“White shirt, black shorts, brown hair, glasses n slippers.} In case you don’t recognize me.” I look up from my phone’s screen and see her humbling exquisiteness walking towards me. Approaching with a hypnotizing smile and an uplifting giggle, we hug meeting in the middle and mingle our way to our table. After a quick feast we debate over ordering a digestif or something sweet. But her conversation was a sufficient treat for me. Our talk had substance that was spicy, honest, raw and sweet; We got deep into murky waters talking about our faults and those that broke us down. If you ask me, that’s a bit too much for a first date. But her exalted mind has me intertwined and everything feels fine. Laughs, saccharine murmurs and deep stares into each other’s glare has me in a fumbling down stairs. Time goes by and the dark of night covers the sky, we think its best we stay together tonight.

We Grab a ride and talk about our hobbies; she likes to dive in ocean trenches to look at reefs and fishes. I flirtatiously tell her I’m a dirty poet looking for new content. She mocks a scoff and chuckles, while I twitch and try not blow the crotch off my britches, as she grips my thigh through this car ride. We demonstrated our values to another and engaged the other physically. I hand her my keys and we hysterically flee in glee through the hotel’s corridors. Making our way through my room’s doors our clothes hit the floor we pounced at another animalistically. Heavy breathing became the soundtrack to our obscene session of bumping *uglies* {Ahemm}… beautifuls. She’s a master diver with a knack at holder her breath. I’m gasping for air, with no scuba gear near, but like a tuna, I dive deep in a wet ocean of sheets and swim erotically alongside this Sudanese mermaid. The tide is high and flow of the current is too rough to battle, she hops on-board long stroking the paddle and her every cavernous stride got us closer to the edge of the cascade. Where we kiss and stared into another’s glare falling down the waterfall. Holding the other tighter as the cataract’s geyser diminishes, swimming her to safety depleted and finished. Oral resuscitation, along with pumps at 100bpm brought her back from seeing the light on the other side. Both smiling and surprise we survived making it out alive.

We slept in bliss in each other’s clutches and woke still groping bodies. Post breaking fast she says must leave to tend to her duties. Slowly gathering her belongings, joking and smirking constantly. Saying our farewells and wishing another a great day. “Enjoy Indonesia this holiday” bittersweetly rolls off her lips and I’m dismissed with a kiss as she boards the taksi; driving away, her lips spelled out, “Please don’t forget about me.” I smile and wave at her adorable display, thinking about the connection we made and the battle we faced. While my heart chokes seeing her disappear in the clove scented kretek smoke.

One Night Cuck?

{D A M N, what’s that seated far at the end of the bar!?}

I’m mangled by bodacious hips, stuck abrupt and tangled by luscious tan skinned lips. Wielding geeky four eyes, freaky white smile and a sneaky touch with luring style. She shot a wink, I blinked and next thing we’re sinking, skinny dipping in her sheets. Wading in her water, trying not to falter, but this [common] king’s thirst has him diving headfirst. Gasping for air at the pull of my hair, drowning in screams as I lustfully swim upstream. Every long stride is strategized to reach the deepest sea and avoid getting choked; as she yokes my throat at every backstroke. Surprised by her gushing geyser signaling her blushing arrival. Both quivering in admiration from quenching our hormonal dehydration. I find it off but I’m not offended, when immediately commanded to leave the premises. Before being dismissed I dress, collect my mess, kiss this miss on the neck and… wait, what!?

Propped up across the bed’s horizon I see her cellscreen’s been facetiming another Verizon! I drop the calm act and retract back asking, “What the f*ck is all that!?” Her cacao brown pigment turned cocaine white, like what the terrorists be shippin’! She starts slipping into an endless stutter then lightly mutters, “Ok, see, I have a boyfriend… and well, it’s just kink…” A weak attempt to justify her stint, that happened without my consent. I’m confused if I should feel resent since, I had a pretty good time until all this… So, I laughingly comment, “The 2000s are almost 20 and, thanks to you, I think we now share a MeToo story.” “You’re overreacting,” she blares in a scare as I continue to perplexedly laugh my way out and down the stairs.

So, food for thought, avoid getting caught in the current’s rough by checking your surroundings before diving into unknown muffs; remember, shmucks don’t have genders.