Hooking Up

You answer the door half
naked, clearly expecting
someone else, but it's late
and you need your cock
sucked and your roommate
will be home soon.
No one worries about
roommates, there is an
unspoken rule about sex.
The shrine to your boyfriend,
this roommate, gives it all away.
You come back from
taking a piss, your jeans
still unbuttoned,
see me at the shrine
figuring it out.

We will do this on the
couch so as not to soil
the sacred bed.
No scents or stains or
stray hair on the pillow.
We won't kiss because
this is just sex and touching
tongues cause too much guilt.
As I suck you, you watch the
clock, the door, the photos
on the mantle. Looking anywhere
but at me.

I refuse to leave until you
return the favor and the look
of horror on your face is both
exhilarating and shattering.
Afraid I won't leave, will make
a scene, you fall down the
rabbit hole.
I hold your head there and fill
your mouth.

You ask me to leave.
I do so gladly, passing your
boyfriend in the hallway.
Hair ruffled, zipping my pants
smelling of you.
I picture you in the bathroom
frantically washing your dick,
rinsing your mouth, crying
over your lack of control.
Your boyfriend knows
everything.
I meet his gaze directly,
lick my fingers.
I feel his eyes drilling into
the back of my head,
so I turn and blow him
a kiss.
This is not my problem.

 

Bare Back

Your bare back made me stop.
Hitchhiker, nineteen and blistering,
only walking to the store.
How about a diversion,
I live just next door.
You must know what I stopped
you for, I feel myself slouching
toward whore.
It's passed down through
matriarchal genes.
You, shaved head, smooth skinned,
rock hard.
Me, taking all comers.
I'll have you home in an hour.

 

Older

The simple locking of hands
behind head, getting head,
the high cost of giving.
Although I would like to be
rich with all that tongues have
to offer, the promise of teeth
causes anxiety.
What happened to the easy
mouth that demanded only
to be met halfway and not
entered?
Not so long ago, this was
all the electricity needed to
keep me running.
But hot things do grow cold
and dim out.
Even with the touch of
another hand or mouth,
mostly it remains a solitary
pleasure.
I am always looking for the
source that, once tapped,
will make me white hot
again.

 

© 2003 Collin Kelley - Contributor's Bio