Pixie Dust
Disclaimer! This poem has sexual content in it. If this type of
artistic expression offends you, it’s really easy to get
around, don’t read it!
Reflecting at length on my one and only,
This bleak November day yawns before me,
It draws at my soul in this hour, my most lonely,
The one I lost, remembered now as so lovely…
In my sorrow, to the dark woods I rashly took,
Here I followed a strange and babbling brook,
As night encroaches, I come upon an eerie nook,
Feeling the need for flight, around me I do look…
Ah! There she stood! Pointy breast, and impish
smile,
An ethereal fairy bemused by me all the while,
She stretched her hands out to me in order to beguile,
The mounting fear in me she did not wish to rile…
She stared at me with mystical eyes,
Here forgotten were all my mortal lies,
All that I had just mourned were now forgotten ties,
For before me now was pure beauty; in sure disguise…
Her lips curled in a wicked smile, defining her
impish face,
Concealing her female mound was a bit of darkened lace,
No mortal man could declare she was not to his particular
taste,
But would seek a long night with her, and not one of
haste….
Oh! To behold a maiden so dark in spirit and yet so
fair!
The luck to have stumbled into her mossy lair,
I watched the full moon reflect a promise on her flaxen hair,
I want to speak to her, to identify her desire, but do I dare?
She strides to me, with long tapered legs,
reflecting an inner lust,
Between her dainty and forbidden thighs I did desire to thrust,
But she shoves me down and sprinkles my manhood with pixie
dust,
Enveloped in her sexual and heady scent, I start to foolishly
trust….
As she casually ties my helpless hands to a twisted
vine,
I feel a sudden spasm of pleasure along my spine,
My organ grows to an immense hardness in so little time,
It is now just a matter of besotted and forgotten time…
Her eyes glow as fingers around my staff now do entwine,
As my passion grows to insurmountable measures,
She slowly makes a fire to increase her own pleasures.
I am no longer a knowing man, but a dark nymph’s
treasure,
Yet, I still knew not then that I was her sexual slave
forever…
As the flames licked the logs, she came to lick me,
But the fairy dust made cuming now a task of eternity,
Was this new sexual hell my own sorrowful destiny?
Oh tell me dear saints, could this really be!?
She laughs in the face of my endless sexual torment,
She cares not, as long as her own pleasure can now be vent,
Languidly, she rides me with a never before seen fervent,
I know her wicked ways towards me will never relent…
All is now forgotten, but all is not lost. I am
reborn.
As this new model of time passes, I no longer feel forlorn,
I now look to the past loves with something akin to scorn,
I may be her sex slave, but in my heart, I am no longer torn,
To live this heady life, I willingly agree to forever
adorn…
Like her nook, the brook, or the falling acorn…
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