Poem – Amanda Series #4

The Amanda Series poems are written in iambic tetrameter similar to “Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening” by Robert Frost. Each verse (save the last) follows an a-a-b-a rhyming scheme, with the following verse’s a’s rhyming with that verse’s b, which is a chain rhyme. Overall, the rhyme scheme is AABA-BBCB-CCDC-DDDD.


amanda poem 04


Her youthful supple flesh is a delight
Amanda dances on the beach at night
My eyes are fixated on her body
And my erection grows with the sight

 

She strips off her top to impress me
Her bouncing breasts set wonderfully free
With doe eyes seeking my approval
She strokes my cock delightfully

 

As I recline she has my submittal
She strokes my cock till its throbbing full
Her hand keeps pumping as my climax nears
Amanda’s skill as this is delightful

 

She looks down toward my cock and peers
Then through her lips it disappears
Her sweet tongue brings me to tears
It’s the most powerful climax in years

Poem – Amanda Series – 02

The Amanda Series poems are written in iambic tetrameter similar to “Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening” by Robert Frost. Each verse (save the last) follows an a-a-b-a rhyming scheme, with the following verse’s a’s rhyming with that verse’s b, which is a chain rhyme. Overall, the rhyme scheme is AABA-BBCB-CCDC-DDDD.


Amanda Series 02


She wears her clothes in a revealing style
Her tiger print bra elicited a smile
With a pendant that nests in her cleavage
It holds my gaze for an unhealthy while

 

See entices me back to her cage
Shedding layers she sets the stage
Once the hunter now I’m the quarry
And my interest is easy to gauge

 

She thrusts herself down upon me
Her passion flows through her freely
I consume her there her slim legs spread
Her climax sweeps her completely

 

Together we lay here in bed
Our public selves last night we shed
Not selves now, a union instead
As we rise to the new day ahead

Poem – Amanda Series – 01

The Amanda Series poems are written in iambic tetrameter similar to “Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening” by Robert Frost. Each verse (save the last) follows an a-a-b-a rhyming scheme, with the following verse’s a’s rhyming with that verse’s b, which is a chain rhyme. Overall, the rhyme scheme is AABA-BBCB-CCDC-DDDD.


Sexy-Lingerie30

Smiling and flashing her bright eyes

Over my face a look of surprise

I can help but stare at this beauty

Her name is Amanda I surmise

 

I offer her a glass of brandy

A liquor I find to be handy

We sit and drink each other in

Her blond curls are naturally sandy

 

Fantasies of unspeakable sin

As my eyes work their way down her skin

I’m taken in with her smooth flirting

Like a trap that’s been sprung from within

 

My lips peek her interest by kissing

My hands spark her desire by touching

My cock fuels her passion by throbbing

She’s complicit in this by yielding

Something I Find Sexy – Raquel Welch in a Boy Scout Top

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This was sexy before I even knew what sexy was!

 

Gosh, when was this picture taken? It had to be the late seventies, maybe very early eighties. I was in my mid-teens. I suppose that I was old enough to be attracted to her but too young to know what to do with her. I recall a comedian saying that it’s a lot like dogs who chase cars. They chase diligently without any idea of how to drive one once they catch one. Still, I recall being spellbound, hypnotized by this image.

 

 

Her healthy tan looks great on her. Smooth and flawless her skin following it up to the nape of her neck. A thin gold chain in the only feline adornment. Simple and classy. Her large dark eyes with enhanced lashes are very feline. Tan and tone. Outdoorsy and those nails will definitely leave her mark upon you. She’s wearing this uniform as if she’s just mauled some young boy scout appetizer and now she’s ready to pounce on you. Those skin tight pants, with a high waist accent the beautiful curves of her hips. I think that I prefer the high waist to the low rise because I’ve seen too many unattractive muffins in low rise pants. They are like pleats in men’s pants. When it works its nice but it’s too easy for them to go wrong, and when they go wrong, they really look bad. The area just above her public mound in nowhere near muffin-ville.

 

Tying a shirt to expose the bare midriff is very sexy to me. The knot is practically an invitation to let your fingers get busy. You can use that knot much like a handle to pull her in close to you and taste her lips.

The noticeable absence of her brassiere speaks volumes. What is often an obstacle to arousal is already removed. A woman braless may not be wearing other barriers to pleasure.

 

 

Her hair frames her like the mane of a lion. It cascades to her shoulders. It’s auburn, the color of the embers of a fire ready to burn with a passion. Looking at her claws I can practically feel them digging into my shoulders as she rides me in wild abandon. Feeling those legs of hers wrapping themselves around me. Kneeing me like a jockey urging me on faster, harder, stronger! I recall the erotic possibilities of this picture like it was yesterday.

 

Looking back, back to that point in time, the main thought running through my mind is… possibilities. Life itself was brimming with possibilities. Just like the neural networks of little children all the branches of life’s decision tree were there intact. The magic we seek in the fountain of youth is the magic inherent in life’s possibilities. The possibility of youth.

 

But no matter where we find ourselves on the path of life the path still branches. Perhaps, at this point in my life, becoming astronaut may be off the table, but there are still several branches left to explore. Steve Covey talks about the irony of climbing the latter of success only to realize that its leaning against the wrong wall.

 

There are places along the path of life where the forks naturally; in high school choosing vocational electives, after high school with the college or vocation decisions, in college deciding on majors. Even after navigating those forks in life’s road, there are times and places where we naturally reevaluate things; those mile stone birthdays of thirty, and forty, and the midlife reinvention, reaffirmation, or complete collapse in crisis. At each point our personal timeline shortens, and so do the number of branches. We need to realize as Robert Frost once noted two roads diverge in a woods and we know not where or when that divergence takes place. Being self-aware creatures the beauty of the path is the divergence wherever and whenever we choose sometime fate intervenes; a death in the family, a job loss, or a promotion, or a change of location. Should you take the one less traveled that’s a decision only you can make. And it is one that makes the difference.

 

But I have noticed that if you find yourself walking down life’s road and there appears to be no forks you may just be traveling in a rut. Stop where you are an d carve your own fork. Life needs to branch. We grow by means of diverse experiences. The Chinese proverb ‘may you live in interesting times’ is a testament to that very thought. We ought never stop growing. These paths that we wander down selected from our younger days to yesterday is the story that comprises our life, hot curves, long nails, great tans, the whole package.