Miriam M. Wynn
is a recent college graduate with a day job, who writes erotic poetry and
fiction on the side. Her short fiction and poetry have been published in
two Stanford University culture magazines, The Mind's Eye and Spire,
and her movie reviews have been published in Scatter
Magazine Online, a Brown University publication. She's a proud
libra with a love of food and intelligent sex play. She read avidly
the things she shouldn't have read from age eight, and by age twelve realized
she could manipulate words herself. Now, at twenty-one, playing with
words is like playing in bed, and she can never get enough of either.
E-mail
Miriam M. Wynn. Visit
Miriam M. Wynn's "Literotics" online.
squeeze
spread me
from behind
part my thighs
and open wide
the cut, the slice
the expectant line,
the part, the lips,
the pouting cheeks.
my ass is not a gluteus maximus,
my back end not an end at
all;
my buttocks carry mounds
of meaning,
and should be treated as
the be all;
raise me;
the globes are ripe for
plucking,
and I am ripe for
both of your palms full of
my flesh;
squeeze, squeeze, and mash
these orbs;
work me, knead me, rough
the dough;
just do, my darling, and
don’t withhold;
hold instead, and when you’ve
grasped all,
spank it, to make me sing
and beg,
pinch it, to leave me quivering
and red,
bite it, make a meal of
me,
lick it, savor each tongue
stroke,
and when you’re ready for
even more
part it,
spread it wide,
let the cool air slide in
and with all your might
splay it, so that the ass
is ready
for proper worship and final
entry;
ease your finger tip from
base to top
strum it along the prone
path;
wet the tip with your saliva
and stroke, oh stroke it
deep again,
and then
give me your tongue,
eat it light then heavy
lick, push, scrape, nudge,
throb
play my open backside with
a lust for the job;
and when you’re ready,
pull out those wicked fingers
again,
and tease me, slick with
juices
to ease one brave one into
my little door,
and take advantage of me
on the floor;
this is my anal birth,
to push out is to receive,
to expel is to fulfill,
to give is to become,
so darling, fill me
and at last,
when you’re really ready,
when the teasing and the
aperitifs are over
guide your weapon,
your matching muscle cylinder
to my round and puckered hole,
push in, and rub a sweet
friction against my internal hide;
hurry up, my darling, and
squeeze inside.
Copyright
© 2001 Miriam M. Wynn. All rights reserved. Do not copy or post. |