His First Mate
not more than two feet away, still doesn’t see Hinemoana coming.
“Bring her about hard & fast
& shut your bloody mouth boy!”
after the full force
hits the stern with a swift kick
aimed right up the Jacksie!
She giggles.
It’s an entertaining Port
full of surprises, guffaws
& sudden gusts of wind;
her Devil’s Tongue
quick as lightning
her Siren Song
slipping in & under.
He lays it on thick.
He would feed me grapes
if it weren’t for the Oyster’s, Swordfish, Tuna, Salmon & Lumpfish, a good bottle of Veuve serving up a concoction of frivolity with a sharp spank on the arse for good measure.
No sea legs required here.
Our naked flamboyance
barely creates a ripple,
our island paradise
looking out over the sea
from a safe distance —
your bridge.
I can see the stars up there
& planets
my world seems bigger
brighter
I stare transfixed into space
but I am not lost
I feel strangely nestled.
Green Tree Frogs
& the hope of a Vine snake or two
keep my curiosity peaked.
His belt & scabbard first then shoulders & I wrap myself around himI am at peace looking out over the ocean & a sky full of stars
You are not unlike Orion guiding distant ships on the horizon I am like Klingon (Klingon usually mate for life)
but not this tide we are an interstellar medium: the space between Euryale & Poseidon
2.
We are of the Sea
reef, rocks & shoals perilous waters where foghorns & Siren songs sound familiar where fishy tales flush pink & my Veuve overflows
It doesn’t take me long to remember expectation is one, two, threefold we navigate in the dark sometimes moonlit mirrors reflect only one part of the whole our universe is bigger than most.
3.
I draw a line in the sand
for both our sakes there can be only one I feel the waves crash on the shore we are all arms & legs slipping & sliding
in & out of the water. I look to the stars & my faith for one brief moment there is no existential crisis Orion’s heavy breathing & sigh of relief
bring us both back to reality under the surface Death is not an unknown entity: one last roll of the die & our fate could be sealed.
4.
Thank you
Orion will always be near Jupiter will always be the biggest planet the full moon will always shine on me.
I could never go past King Island without thinking of you candlelight, frogs & our best mate Captain’s call still falling on deaf ears
but nevermind I’m still as blind as a bat & you’re as old as the hills.
He wasn’t my usual punter. There was something in the way he greeted me at the door that piqued my interest. A smile, a quick flash of his eyes, a bowed head and the way he made a surprised Mmmm sound as he came inside.
His name was Michael and I was intrigued. We exchange pleasantries, he a wad of cash, reading each other in between the transaction. I go into routine-mode, show him the shower and wait for him in the bedroom.
I almost always start with sensual oral, kisses and licks but he had other designs. I wasn’t sure I was agreeing to this then and I was tense but he was gentle and reassuring so I let him touch my skin.
He cradled me in his left arm while his right hand caressed my body and mound. He whispered gently and I feel my legs begin to relax and spread. He rubbed my vulva in rhythmic circles over and under before slipping his fingers inside me.
I had a moment of uncertainty and my legs began to shut. I am not sure that I’m ready for this, intrude my thoughts, but he said I would be ok and I allowed myself to relax under his control as he penetrated me further.
He used a technique I hadn’t experienced before. I rarely let my clients touch me intimately, a boundary that protected my psyche and separated love from lust. His two middle fingers curved up in behind my clitoris, his two outer fingers down toward my anus, his thumb acting as a brace hold.
He moved me up and down, his internal fingers sliding purposely back and forth. I felt an intense sensation that made me spread my legs wide, completely open. He sped up and then I freaked out again. I thought I was going to pee — this strange delightful sensation created such confusion that I shut down and closed my legs in a moment of fear.
This is not how my typical clients behaved. I was not the one in control and it was a little unnerving. He murmured reassurance and gave me permission to let go. He was so experienced and strangely loving with his care and skill, that I had no choice but to relax into his hand and bury myself into his armpit breathing in his masculine musk.
I felt raw, open and exposed, my vulva swollen, wet and warm. I let him move me with his fingers and allowed myself to moan, surrendering unabashed. My vagina responded like she’s never responded before. I had no choice but to bear down and let out a long, high crescendoing Arrrrrrrgh as I ejaculated for the first time, soaking his hand, his arm, my bed, spraying cum everywhere.
I burst into hysterical laughter. A mixture of embarrassment and shame, enlightenment and release but he wasn’t finished with me yet. He kept going. Slower, faster until he had milked me spontaneously multiple times and I was completely drained of all my juices.
He moved to missionary and looked me in the eyes, held my limp legs and sensually slid his thick penis inside me. He took his time and I watched him bring himself to a long, slow erotic orgasm.
I couldn’t stop giggling when we were both sated. I think during the throes of ecstasy, I even bit him on the arm. We lay there beside each other in silence, me cocooned in warmth and basking in what felt like divinity. He, beaming prowess. I think we both felt blessed.
We went out onto my balcony and talked for hours. The professional in me, negotiated another transaction, although I refused another advance near the end of our encounter. I was still processing and because it was such an unusual night, I felt a little uncomfortable with performance anxiety. The tables had well and truly turned, I knew I was smitten and that was a huge red flag in my book.
Two years later and together, for all intents and purposes and nothing about Michael and I is normal. It’s as-if he comes from another world and my world has been tipped upside down and ripped a new arsehole (not that I’m complaining) I chuckle, but Oh how we have both grown!
We still struggle with our presence at times, and our sex life is a hit and miss affair. The love building up slower than our trust in itself. One thing is for certain though, we are on a different plane and the spiritual depth between us is deep enough to continue to endure and evolve. As exhilarating as it is exhausting, it is well worth the risk, red flags and all.
Jack, steps back and waits, his head bowed in deference. A shudder circulates through his body and returns to his groin where his pathetic little worm jerks awake momentarily before it retreats, almost disappearing.
Domina, hazmat suit fitted, respirator adjusted and hands fully gloved, makes one final survey of her apartment noting everything in it’s rightful place before opening the door.
‘I see you followed my directions correctly, eventually’, she quipped.
‘Place your shoes in the bucket and strip’.
Her deadpan face and hardened stare conveying a don’t-fuck-with-me stance.
Domina’s new fetish was playing out like a Hunger Games episode: full lockdown, curfew and quarantine rules apply.
‘Follow me’, she commanded, leading the way to the bathroom.
‘Shower, put on the hazmat suit and mask and come into my den’.
Jack does as he is told, noticing the hairs on his arms and neck bristle and shrink back as the icy air-conditioning slaps his skin.
He’d been fantasizing about this day, ever since the first wave of Coronavirus (Corvid 19) swept across Europe, with Italy almost decimated in it’s wake.
It reminded him of his mortality, the beck and whim of governments and George Orwell’s 1984 dystopian nightmare coming into fruition. It made him feel alive, on the contrary, gave him a reason to live out his last days letting go of the old ways, going out on his terms.
Domina was a survivor. Gone were the days of luxurious 24 hour bookings, champagne and wads of cash. It was adapt or die slowly in her isolation, knowing her body wouldn’t be found for weeks.
These were the days of demeaning quickies and blow n’ go’s for a fraction of the price and the odd apocalypse fantasy that gave her just enough extra to remember how she once felt secure. Now, she controlled her working environment to suit and insisted on safety protocol.
Jack looked at himself in the mirror, putting on his mask. He was reduced to an anonymous automaton. Nameless, faceless and nothing more than a number in a system designed to suck every last drop of humanity from his wretched soul, if he even had one. A nobody. A pitiful excuse for a human being. He wanted to feel the humiliation of his meaningless existence played out one last excruciating time.
Domina watched her pain slut enter and ordered him to get on all fours on the bed. She picked up a 1 metre length of flexible plastic pipe and gave him six of the best in quick, hard succession.
/ / / / / /
Jack felt the weight of the whole world reign down. Searing pain shot through him and waves rippled along the length of his flacid cock awakening from it’s morbid slumber to stand at attention. It was all he could do to stop from crying out.
Jack knew he would fail, miserably and so did she.
Nefertiti has her father’s eyes: blue grey, round and slightly protruding but entirely captivating. The all-seeing eye of Horus and Crow’s feet compliment her aesthetic smile by design. She enters the chamber, swathed in flowing layers of ivory silk adorned with lapis lazuli, onyx and handcrafted strands of golden pearls.
Akhenaten sinks low. Robe, legs and heart open admiring her curves, her sweet sway – ripe fruit seducing his eyes and craven appetite with every languid step.
Nefertiti slides in between. Akhenatens’ serpentine manhood rears, her narcissis skin soothsayer hips, drape and he slips, thrusts and bursts! She lifts, slides and rides his chariots rhythm, beaming through Ra’s realm and back again into her self, sated.
Amarna steps aside, hides behind a sandstone pillar. Stealing moments, she watches the lovers embrace, arch and peek.
She notices the tingles first, then a soft thudding throb that intensifies with every passing moment. A gasp! An electric spasm shooting upward from her liquid apex, filling her with euphoria. She quickly muffles her mouth, burying her face in her hands and shrinks back into the shadows.
Nefertiti pricks her ears and looks over her shoulder, peering back into the chamber. Akhenaten raises up on his elbows and follows her gaze, glimpsing a wisp as it pulls back out of sight.
‘Step into the light’, he commands, lifting Nefertiti from his rod, setting her aside.
‘Come forward slave’, calls Nefertiti, beckoning the shadow from the dark.
Amarna bows her head in an odd mixture of shame and excitement, tepidly stepping a toe out from behind the scene, testing her courage with fright, flushed cheeks betraying her desire.
Moving forward, she stands deferred waiting for her next command, allowing her hot wetness and damp musk scent to allay her senses.
Nefertiti glares. Akhenaten stares, his mouth parting at the recognition of his newest and most beautiful sacred qedesha. He leans into Nefertiti and whispers Amarna’s name, betraying his lust. She turns, spurned then reads Akhenatens desire, rekindling her own.
‘You have come to join us unannounced Amarna’?, Nefertiti leads. ‘What have you to offer your King and Queen that we have not taken before?’
‘Ripe fruit, my Queen, and moist Basbousa’…
To be continued…
Egyptian Bust if NerfertitiEgyptian Sculpture of Akenaten
I see right through everything you try to impress upon me.
My nose is already cut/off, my mask forever cast into the pantomime of the dead.
When I rise,
I won’t need you.
∆
There are no wallflowers here,
just silent observers casing the joint.
My grandfather’s spyglass has a cracked lens — one of those monocled, steampunky brass edged gems that’s uncoordinated at best but it serves more than a purpose.
Without you, I fade into the background.
∆
I am like a mage.
I draw you in, but you beckon me out from behind my crystal pillars dangling wads of money and a job offer that’s on hold.
I come baring more than just my breasts,
I am yours.
∆
Till the thrill is gone.
I am in danger of succumbing to my own spell, rebounding long before
I am discarded,
when you’ve already moved on to Nightingales and page three nostalgia, my unnatural incantations losing their spark along the way.
Still, you make me question where I belong.
∆
I stand in the orange sunset smoking a durry on my balcony, looking down from my lofty thoughts.
My high society, contemptible self-loathing boldly framing my red-hinged double revolving doors that would swing wider — if it weren’t for the sunstrike that has me
blind.
∆
A spectral shade
of surreal light,
trapped by my own
shadowban.
∆
I see right through everything you try to impress upon me.
My nose is already cut/off, my mask forever cast into the pantomime of the dead.
I love the way you light up a room with your presence and my heart.
I love the way you joyously cook for me and our friends; laughter combusting into spontaneous abundance.
I love the way you laugh and giggle and play the fool, running around the room screaming like a freaking fruit, with Snoop.
I love that you do your best with everything and everyone, everytime.
I love that your heart only wants to do good and focus on the future.
I love how you think positively about all of our obstacles and we work together to solve them.
I love your resilience and strength of character, even when times get tough – you find a way.
I love the way your face lights up when you plan a party, design a flyer and work the promo.
I love the way you DJ – making me and everybody dance, with huge smiles on our dials.
I love to see you in your costumes and watch you come alive.
I love seeing the happiness on your face when you achieve the almost impossible, frequently.
I love watching your facial expressions and that passionate rocking and rolling you do on your chair, punching your hands in the air, to your favourite songs.
I love the way you make me feel, holding my hand and casually putting your arm around me, no matter where we are.
I love how you give me a wake-me-up-call most mornings, and I feel your desire pressing against me.
I love the way you slip, and fall between my legs with that naughty, cheeky giggle.
I love the way you whisper in my ear and tell me I’m sexy and beautiful and how much you want me.
I love it when you kiss me for no reason.
I love your sexy swagger and smouldering eyes.
I love the way you make me Chai in the mornings, and/or a cigarette and we slowly wake up together.
I love watching you shine.
*
On any given day, you give yourself to me in all your authenticity, with love.
You are the most awesome, amazing, talented, sexy, loveable man I have ever had the pleasure to meet and call mine.
I dont know how long I’ve got you for, but the romantic in me hope’s you put a hippie ring on it and we mooch on into the future, forever.
Stars take on a new kind of beauty, forming celestial matrices I marvel at,
peak my existence.
Music tango’s a discourse; ecstasy, sorcery, mischief & mayhem,
my mind’s eye pulsing in time to rhythmic sex, swirling into everything & everyone around me,
sensing freedom.
Sparks untangle in my psyche & I am forgiven my sins. I traverse the esoteric alchemy of my mind, body & soul, caressing everything alight in you
& nothing else matters.
3.
I’m turning into a tradie.
Either that or a hippie, except I refuse to stop using soap even when my nasal passages fail to deliver the final blow.
I love wearing perfume, Tuscany per Donna in particular (except I’m running out), a floral oriental with sweet, woody undertones that matches my mood.
I’ve never understood the mentality of ‘Eau de Naturale’ when everyone else has to pay through the nose.
I burn Sandalwood for peace when I’m pottering around my home making her pretty.
I look like a tradie though these days, complete with hi-vis shirt, hobnailed boots and fluro socks. No make up.
I’ve let my long hair, grey naturally like a witch; an interlude between lives only donned for that special occasion once in a blue moon, when I speak easy.
Perhaps a Dharma Bum or a tradie with hippie/witch tendencies? It doesn’t really matter – I scrub up ok.
4.
‘Mirrors, mirrors closing round
By my will you now are bound.
Whatever ill you seek to do
Reflected back six times on you’,
“Brown nosing is considered commentary, while deceit still lingers in gaslit ovens” JD Butler
People could learn to say what they mean, & mean what they say but
brown nosing is considered commentary, while deceit still lingers in gaslit ovens; no professionalism, integrity or due process.
Fraudulent essentially – powerful people full of egotistical self righteous bigotry, who really don’t give a fuck! Zealots who would suck off anything & lick the rim, just to play the press.
I’ve retired, & that doesnt give anyone the license to try to get their end away by throwing a ‘seemingly solid’ literary curve ball at me, that’s totally full of shit!
Honesty died with Bukowski & I wish I lived in America, because I know exactly where to buy a cheap gun
He came over today, the sexy fucker! It would have been nanoseconds if I had my way; his rooster waking me up at some ungodly hour, unlike the one next door that miraculously disappeared overnight
He’s surrounded by chicks with dicks for the most part & I love playing the diva swanning about in my skanky pants, proudly wearing my Madge of Honour
It’s only when I’m feeling omnipotent I become envious, allowing my Goddess to flaunt her divine masculinity strapped to her inner thighs, milking you for whatever it’s worth in my dreams
I think it’s only fair you get what you deserve, my milkshakes had all the boys in the yard, now she wants savoury pineapple smoothies sliding down around her knees, spitting seeds
So much for demure! I want lust & primal screams awakening my thwarted inner peace, transcendental om’s on my lips & you lost in oblivion
I’m a saucy bitch, quick witted enough to slap you down with a wildwoman grin, your eyes never waivering, once I bring you to life looking up from under lashes
You’re a sexy fucker & I love you more for being tied up in knots I need & stretch with ease, my magic hands working with pleasure
My demons are in awe of your presence; silenced except for my desire, stirring up more than delayed gratification
I want you to fuck me up more than anything! bring her down to your level, where I am anything but afraid & anything but the girl
You went back to the old ways, baby let those speak for me, on their behalf poisoning your mind and self to bring you back home, tethered to that place you’ve been trying to leave you let them whisper in your ear, sweet nothings to woo betrayal, the only thing you trust you’ve gone full circle fear taking what was good for you over love held in contempt, lust luring you back again already screwing you now they’re trying to screw me with phone calls, designer texts intimidation sending me into undercover, in disbelief believing you have a hand in thuggery you were so protective of me, once family willing to sell it all to the Devil you know sending them all away but they have your head in a vice that false prophet Halo surrounding you in darkness; checkmate, stealing more than just Mary’s soul you are weak, following in your fathers footsteps the one closest to you, the first learned her place underfoot her escape futile, her existance cruel penance for that lost child proving her guilt she accepts her fate, now that’s why she turns a blind eye allowing your atrocious behaviour to go unchecked – you raise your voice, she see’s him in you and resigns I have fallen by the way learning to let go of my heart, my mortality reminds me daily that I am alone I look forward to other things, now bringing fulfillment here, my father in his Twilight where I can care for love without risk, losing it all the best part – his death teaching me everything else I need to know
/
one day, I hope you sneak back into my bed, just because you can and we have an hour or two to ourselves, like it was before remembering our smell, feeling our hearts open loving each other well, adjusted until the next time we say goodbye and life goes on.
Men, women or both
If they show me
Respect & pay my fee
How they treat
Me is how I screen;
They peep through key
Holes in my web,
Mobile phone or face
Book
Leave me clues
I peruse at my leisure.
On my unpaid time,
Weeding
Always pulling
Out roots & bare
Back, barking mad
Messages
Cutting into my family!
My family time
Intrigues you & yours –
Watching how we
Balance on that edge,
While I swing my leg
Over, hold on
Tight & tiptoe
Around the giant
Dildo in the room
But we do
Those Bill’s
Just don’t stop coming!
*
I work hard for the money
I work hard for family
I work hard
Pulling my weight where it counts
To make ends meet;
Reconciling differences
Underneath
I bleed red & my shit still
Stinks but that doesn’t make me
Invisible, unless you’re
Anti
Anti this, anti that
Why should it matter
What I do to support my
Self or my family?
I should ram my fist right up
Your arse, to my elbow
(I’d like to – bend you over) &
Piss all over your pride & prejudice!
Your mind is already made up.
Stuck up, to the eyeballs
In condescending lies pandering
To (un) popular beliefs;
Nothing like countering ‘prostitution
Narratives’ in the belly
Of the beast
I am a very tall poppy.
I am not so uneloquently on display
I am not a victim
I am not coerced
I am not a survivor
I am not damaged
I am not suffering any
More than anyone else
I don’t buy into
Negative, stereotypically ignorant
Profit driven victimisation
Either!
I choose to be the
Architect of my own life
Doing my bit,
Arousing your awareness
So that those who are
Tarred with the same brush
Can find support
Not rescue
It’s called autonomy.
Something I have more of than
Some, but you are not one
Tomorrow I’m going to wake up
Turn on my phone
Answer messages
Boil the jug & light up a dart,
Considering all my options
Before heading back in to sex work
It makes me stark raving
Mad, to think you could
Possibly be offended!
negotiating
a purchase or two. slip –
ping up. two stairs
and the pain is
off the chartered
Rhicter scale.
sliding – skating
on your arse. in
dire need
of emergency. horrors
to come. no
good news is
bad news. stuffed up
plans. rendezvous’
post – poned before
you can even
walk the walk.
talking crutches
and neck
braces. on
your back shock
absorbing
shit. painfully
anticipating anecdotal
conundrums. the bite
of teeth
and Lilies. more
than you
can chew. I can
buggaring up
stowed away.
from warmth
and inner
thighs. doctors
and nurses
precisely un –
lucky. nearly losing
the plot as it
thickens. muscles flex
into verbal canes. an ex –
pected debacle of
ruined tension.
de – faulting
into chaos. she didn’t
want or need. your
birthday or
Christmas. travel
in one
breath. denied
children understand
sorry. the world
is still there
for you. home
with your first mate
and friends.
another mate
for life. love is
giving us what
we need
to heal. pretty
but it could be
much worse
for you
and her. your nut
shell cracked.
take all the time
you need.
His belt & scabbard first
then shoulders
& I wrap myself around him
I am at peace
looking out over the ocean
& a sky full of stars
You are not unlike Orion
guiding distant ships on the horizon
I am like Klingon
(Klingon usually mate for life)
but not this tide
we are an interstellar medium:
the space between
Euryale & Poseidon
2. We are of the Sea
reef, rocks & shoals
perilous waters
where foghorns & Siren songs sound familiar
where fishy tales flush pink
& my Veuve overflows
It doesn’t take me long to remember
expectation is one two threefold
we navigate in the dark sometimes
moonlit mirrors reflect only one part of the whole
our universe is bigger than most
3. I draw a line in the sand
for both our sakes
there can be only one
I feel the waves crash on the shore
we are all arms & legs
slipping & sliding
in & out of the water
I look to the stars & my faith
for one brief moment there is no existential crisis
Orion’s heavy breathing & sigh of relief
bring us both back to reality
under the surface
Death is not an unknown entity:
one last roll of the di
& our fate could be sealed
4. Thank you
Orion will always be near
Jupiter will always be the brightest planet
the full moon will always shine on me
I could never go past King Island
without thinking of you
candlelight, frogs & our best mate
Captain’s call still falling on deaf ears
but nevermind
I’m still as blind as a bat
& you’re as old as the hills
Poetry Out West 