~Adult~ Oral Sex, who needs it…

Eddie Mount — Sun, 10 Jan 2010 15:40:27 +0000

Well, I do.

I believe the problem with sex between too many men and woman is that they often have a total lack of understanding of what each party wants, needs or desires. Let’s face it, we are all different, what works for one might not work for another and we should respect that.

As my considerable readership has come to know and love about me, I am a plain speaker. I say what I mean and mean what I say, for example, in the throes of passion I am extremely oral. There are no parts of a woman’s body that is off limits to me. I do not apologize for this, just how I roll. Though for some Ladies it doesn’t work. I once spent twenty minutes sucking on this chick’s goiters. Yea, she had these huge goiters growing out of her neck; they looked lonely so I said, “what the fuck.”

As I was munching on her growths I believe she was alternately repelled and fascinated by my attention.

Communication? Sex does not lend itself to statistical analysis, galvanic skin response or journalistic depictions. Only the Poet can speak to it. I submit. You cannot be too clinical, when sex works it’s a mystical experience, it truly is. You can’t say, “Oh wayward male found in a drinking establishment, continue your staccato tongue rhythms on Clitoral region, while using your primordial digit to find my alphabetized Uterisian canal.” Don’t work. But you could say, “You fucking whore pig lick my fucking clit that’s right pig, that’s right… Fuck! faster, faster” while slamming your fist against his head. Now that works. Ladies, I cannot emphasize the fist against the head enough. Any man worth his salt enjoys a good ass kicking.

One problem with my, if I might borrow a term from my dear friend Sigmund Freud, Oral fixation, is the dingelberry, alternately described as the grape, exit only, the satellites of Uranus or to be blunt… balls of shit hanging on a chicks ass. That will wilt little Willie real quick. I’m oral but not that oral. As a result of these unfortunate occurrences I am now forced to employ the services of a miner’s helmet. While I admit when I strap the sucker on it does send some ladies screaming in terror out of the bedroom, it certainly beats hosing them down with a power washer.

Oh well, it’s all an experiment. Sex, much like life, requires taking chances.

I will continue my quest for the Nobel Prize, I mean, the understand of human sexuality with my next write, tentatively entitled, “Shrimping”, Hey, Forrest Gump isn’t the only shrimp boat Captain out there”

Respectfully submitted,

I remain, faithfully,

The Oddest of Poets

The Scarred Man (The Last Poet #2)

Eddie Mount — Fri, 11 Dec 2009 12:38:15 +0000

I strangled the last Wolf

It had a curious look on its face

When it died

“No problem dude, it just Bidness”

I had become a weapon

For her

She gathered the wounded and urged them forward.

I stared at my hands

Knowing they would never be clean again

“Scarred man, we must move!”

“And the wounded who can’t be moved?”

“There is no time for tears!”

Her eyes flashed crimson

I heard thunder and the gongs of war.

“You have gathered too many who will feed and protect them?”

“You will”

She danced away

I gathered the mortally wounded child in my arms

As his Mother shouted barbs of hate

To that sadistic God

Who pretended he loved

I sang a an old lullaby just before

I snapped his neck

His Mother wailed

And was dragged away

I killed the remaining mortally wounded

We were hunted

The Wolfs were the first wave

There will be others

More horrible creatures.

She was right

She was always right

No time for tears.

I left the killing field and entered

The forest

She was efficient

She already set up camp

“Scarred Man, we need food”

I wanted to scream and say

“No More!”

“I suppose you will have me stop the Sun in its tracks and part the waters next?”

“No… food is all that is required at this moment”

I could not deny her

She knew

We were intricately linked

She was Hope

I was Death

I counted the mouths

And went to hunt

She was paradox

She saved life

And

Took the Death of others

To her

In her

Her strength

Humbled me

“We must save who we can”

“But, too many will die”

“Before this is over.

The Death dreams occurred

Every night now

I wondered what form it would take

When it came for me.

I brought down an eight point Stag

The writings of Oddpoet » adventure

~Adult~ Oral Sex, who needs it…

The Scarred Man (The Last Poet #2)