Dirty Mind Poems Novels & Stories

“Oh, this is nothing,’’ I whispered to myself before walking off to the opposite direction happily, one unhappy moment can not undo and outweigh all the good time and memories that we had created together, that was just impossible. The bell rung and I rushed off to English class, the teacher asked everyone to write a poem down as she went round and I couldn’t seize the moment better, this was my chance to outshine everyone. Ye god of beauty, Ooh Israelite god lost in earth Ye is full of walking metaphors and perfections A breath oozes love and makes beautiful flowers to blush Like a virgin caught in a midnight dance with bachelors Thou eyes glow like molten lave and hot coals, healing broken

She described her thoughts on it in relation to nature and destruction and decided to share another piece of hers she was proud of. She turned her laptop to face Remus and he read the poem. Degradation Filthy, but, yet alive The dust rises around Growing and spreading Like parasites clinging to what little there is The dust rises around Its legs dug into the ground Like parasites clinging to what little there is Sucking the life force around them Its legs dug into the ground The roots spread out deep below Sucking the life force around them Leaving nothing behind The roots spread out deep below Running its lines and taking over Leaving nothing behind

After the interrogation that day, fuck had a grown woman like me craving, but since there was no cock around and no vibrator, I had to use my fingers to oh yeah that's the spot. When I was done with the masturbation, just then on my phone, a notification beeped in on my Facebook. It didn't seem like me receiving my porn, instead, it was a poem from someone with no profile picture or picture on his wall. His username says Mr Romantic and his poem read, I can never look at a drop of dew in a buttercup without beholding shafts of love in the retreats of your eyes In you there is unity; your face and form is a blend of perfect line and contour

Pure pleasure washed over me in intense waves as I fondled my breasts and fingered my pussy faster. The fact that my mind could come up with a vivid imagination of Ross doing the same thing to me made things way easier. Using him as a muse, I fucked myself with my finger. My moans were so loud that I had no doubt that anyone in the hallway would have easily heard them. But I was far from caring. Every fibre of my being was concentrated on one thing—the amount of pleasure I was getting from fingering myself.

I turned on the tap and poured water onto my face, ending all lustful hallucinations. I turned on the shower, washing up my body and I felt a shiver down my spine when my fingers slipped past my nipples. I began washing off every wetness from thighs and pussy. Flashes of Jack’s cock keep flooding into my head, so I rinsed off my body and used my finger to circle my tits. Then I rubbed my pussy gently, rubbing my clit as I felt the sensation spread out through my body. I shoved one finger into my cunt gently. Then I used two fingers circling my clit, then faster, my hips rocking up my hands.

The heart screams The rejection of peace To me From me Each new day But then till I live Will I be dust Each new way No success new Reaches me Despite Huge attempts My sweat does make My heart does make I am paralysed Or am I dead I don't even know A moment When I enjoyed life Without a breakage As threat If this is life What is death What is end What is dullness When this is light Of my life I am frail now I know I am weak I know the cause Of my every disease Is mental unease But I still won't complain I still won't complain Till fire extinguish My dreams To dirt, it will be All expectations from me With encouragement Only as a dream How long will I live How long will I blame One day At res

* Burn me, gently gently If I were to die tomorrow, If you woke up to my body, stiff, lifeless, And you knew that the days will never see my smile again, Burn me, gently gently. Do not bury me, Don't dig six feet to lay my restless spirit to rest, For the wild was in me, and it cannot be tamed by a pile of dirt, Do not excavate the opaque evenness of Mother Earth to deposit me, for I am neither golden nor leaden, neither metallic nor silvern, Sitting with patience waiting to be discovered. Burn me, gently gently,

When I close my eyes I imagine your soft lips on mine A feeling so pure and divine I imagine our bodies intertwine Your soft body crushed against me As I give you immeasurable pleasure And raise passions and desires untold As your deep blue eyes stare into my soul I want you to be mine and only mine And I'll have you till the end of time. Damian read the poem again and nearly threw up. What kind of man writes poetry? To him, it was very unmanly. He looked down to see who had written it but the poem stopped there. He could find anything. No signature, no name, no pseudonym, nothing. He folded the abominable paper up and kept it aside away from his belongings. If writing poety was contagious,

*Dust* I stand in the clearing, my heart pounding like a war drum in my chest, the silence around me feeling heavy and oppressive. The moonlight spills across the ground like silver, illuminating the jagged edges of the landscape but casting long shadows that twist and stretch, taunting me with the unknown. River promised he would return soon, but with every passing second, fear coils around my heart like a vine, squeezing tighter.

And each time any part of her body but mainly her full breasts or her smooth legs brushed against me, he not only fell into the gutter, but the dirty bastard also rolled around in it. You’d think he hadn't only hours ago gotten a blow job in his darkroom. Of course, any time I tried to get him out of the gutter and stop filling my mind with mental images of what Crista looks like naked, far worse images entered my mind. Memories I’d rather keep locked in the far reaches of my mind.