• 川柳 · 364

    · Yesterday’s poem should have been the last. My muse of erotic haiku blows me a kiss good-bye? Yes, she says, perfect. Maybe it still is? But you’re not done yet. But I have you. But maybe I’m also ready for another lover. You won’t. Why not? Because you’re not that kind of a muse.… Continue Reading

  • 川柳 · 362

    · Where have you been today, I ask. I’m full of come. What? It just happened. What did? The come, she says. Where? In me, in my pussy, deep, inside me. How? He didn’t say anything. We were waiting for the bus. And then he’s staring at me, right at me, like I said something—I… Continue Reading

  • 川柳 · 361

    How does she want it? she asks. From behind. And her? On her back with her legs wide as they’d go. How do you know? In the way a woman walks. She walks the way she wants to be fucked? Just saying. You know most women wouldn’t put up with you. So why do you?… Continue Reading

  • 川柳 · 360

    Last night’s poem wasn’t your best. Nobody complained. They’re too polite. I was tired,  I say. And what does it mean? There was so much come in you that even closing your legs couldn’t stop it dribbling. That’s sexy? Incredibly. You like a cream filled pussy? Love it. You’re a little boy. The creamier the… Continue Reading

  • 川柳 · 359

    · I know what you need. No! Get over here. No! she says again. Get over here and bend over. · even ····with her legs closed—spilling my come ········afterward · · Redbud | February 22 2017