Dirty Mind Poems 소설 & 이야기

(AHVI'S POINT OF VIEW) I feel dirty. No matter how much I try to scrub my body clean under the shower, I still feel filthy and the more images of Vance between my legs, giving me an orgasm deluges my mind, the dirtier I feel. I can't feel the briny of my tears because of the running water over my head but they continue to spew down my face while thought after thought spirals round and round in my head, inundating me with the feeling of trepidation and solicitude.

Turning the music off, I grab the lavender and put it in a tiny glass vase, and set it in the center of the long ebony black dining table. Walking out of the conjoined dining room and kitchen I grab my book, my water bottle, and a blanket. I set the water and blanket by the back door that leads to the porch, and the beach a little off, and head back to the kitchen with my book. Of human bondage, by W. Somerset Maugham. The book itself isn't bad, but from my point of view, it's terribly bland. I like more poetic works. But also a hint of darkness. The best example is the poem, In the Desert, by Stephen Crane, from his book The Black Riders and Other Lines. It has a sense of dystopia that I ca

The crooked lines form inside my mind seeking to create roots leading to unknown roads without the slightest pretense of offering kindness to anyone. The urge to create a mess or get involved in an unnecessary fight boils inside my mind, and the urge to kill someone again corrupts my whole being it's addictive closing my eyes to review the destroyed body without eyes the expensive perfume mixing with putrefaction of blood amidst the viscera. Now when I close my eyes inside the apartment, it's not the empty eye sockets that return, but these irises cause the sensation of his heat weighing on my body watching all the movements on the stage setting fire to every cell in the system.

Especially here. I didn’t expect anyone. Confessions weren’t 24/7 anymore. But then the small latticed screen slid open with a whisper. A woman’s voice floated through the darkness..soft, melodic, warm as candlelight. “You’ve come to be cleansed of your transgressions?” My breath caught. “Yes,” I managed, voice thick. “And what are your sins? What burden do you need to be drained of?” I swallowed hard. “I… I have unclean thoughts. Lust. Constantly. I can’t focus in class, can’t talk to girls without imagining them naked. It’s overwhelming. I feel like an animal.”

Let the chaos of the night sweeten sin with a patchouli-embracing smell no dandier than a whispering ruba’i. Nobody has got this matter straight— Life... oh it’s the magical mystery kind! In the desert I could die loving the sand, the voice that touches the voiceless in every particle of dust, composed and collected, like the Eternal Painter. Where we come from and where we got to The Master of Fate wraps myths with the moon's squeaky hush, and sound to sound the rains of Iran shower

We’ve fucked in the Kitchen, shower, tub, Couch, even the woods and once against the hallway wall because he looked at me too long and I suddenly forgot how to behave like a civilized immortal creature. Absolutely shameless behavior, most especially when I spat in his face saying I would never ever be with his type. And hell… As embarrassing as it’s been it’s also been euphoric. Like dangerously euphoric! It’s the kind of pleasure capable of making powerful women ruin their own lives willingly. I was beginning to understand why mortals wrote poetry and that’s a horrifying realization even for me. Honestly the only reason I’d managed to crawl out of bed this morning was pure determination.

I came hard, biting down on my free hand to stay quiet, waves of pleasure rolling through me while the sounds of their fucking continued through the wall. I stayed there for a long moment afterward, breathing raggedly, my panties ruined, skirt still hiked up. Shame washed over me, but it didn’t kill the lingering heat. I cleaned myself up as best I could, washed my hands, and stepped back into the hallway. My legs felt unsteady. My mind was still spinning with the image of Ethan, the sounds from next door, and the terrifying realization that I wanted more. As I turned the corner toward my office, I nearly collided with someone coming the other way.

Lust, in all its raw, unfiltered glory. She drops her hand and goes to stand in front of the mirror, her eyes on her reflection as she unbuttons her top. “You know, Minny, while I was watching my husband fuck you like a rabid animal--might I add--the strangest thing happened.” Her top slides off her shoulders, revealing her huge breasts barely covered by her demi cup bra. “I’ve never considered myself attracted to women but there’s just something about you that’s so innocent. It drives one to possess,” she says, her eyes meeting mine through the mirror. “To corrupt.”

"Are you discouraged?" "Outwardly, I rejoice in a drop of rain, a ray of light, and the stars in the sky. But in my thoughts, the demons convince me that reality is meaningless. "Are you proud?" "Outwardly I am humble, but in my thoughts I imagine myself to be a God, although I have more infirmity than the most sinful man on earth. "Are you envious?" - Outwardly I enjoy the success of other people, but in my mind I want what others have.

I existed only for the feeling of his cock splitting me open and filling me over and over again. He whispered things in a language I didn’t know but understood in my bones. That I was his, that I was made for this, that I would never be the same, and I didn’t care. My body, my breath, my sanity. I came one last time, screamless, shaking and blind. When I woke up, I was naked on the ceiling. The room spun slowly around me, and I was still wet and wanting. Outside, a neighbor shouted so mething muffled. A dog barked. There was a knock and then another.