tagErotic PoetryA Man, and a thing about Leather.

A Man, and a thing about Leather.

byShamanskiss©

Its been a long day, half dressed in leather, long and so damn hot,
Its been a long day in too much leather,
I think my ass has lost the plot.
My thighs they ache,
My butt it burns,
My shoulders can’t find my spine,
Its been a long day in too much leather,
Oh sweet relief, be mine.

Its been a long day, of repeated insults, a day so full of pain,
A long day ensnared in quirts and ropes,
My ass in deep red flames,
My waist feels cinched,
My ankles chafe,
My neck is choked in sweat,
A long day of twisted quirts and ropes,
Suffering stuff, I love the best.

It started out with a coffee kiss, caffeine’s oh so needed fix,
Soon after night lost out to yet another dawn,
My ass destined for the usual tricks
Lord save my cheeks,
Lord help my glutes,
Does some Jesus love me still,
A long long day of suffering joy,
Suffered by my own will.

Now this long long day in leather, it’s coming to it’s close,
Another long long day in leather,
Of repeated, ass slapping, blows,
My time is done,
My tally’s filled,
And now respite is mine,
I can take my ease, and stretch and rest,
And just breathe those mountain pines.
Its been a long long day, my sore legs sheathed in leather,
Another day of repetitive slaps,
Another day in the saddle,
Another day in wearing chaps,
But now the pinto’s hobbled , fed and watered,
Those damn cows are suckin up greasy grass,
The sky is clear,
The stars are bright,
And I can just about feel my ass.
There’ll be more long days in leather,
Chaps set to brave the thorny test,
Of days spent babying longhorns,
Of days doing what I love best.
Long long days in leather,
In the saddle, set so high,
Atop a Midnight pure-blood Andalusian,
Feeling free, and tall, and wide.
And I will moan, and groan, and mutter,
And my ass will throb and ache and itch,
And if that mossyhorn gets lost again,
Well, next time I’ll just shoot the sum’bitch.
So what , my life is spent clad in leather,
And my ass goes slappity slap,
But I wouldn’t ever trade my saddle ,
To return to that office bound crap.

One day, if I meet some Maker,
If there is a Heaven above,
Hell, even if there isn’t,
And Hell works out painful tough,
I will have rode the Goodnight Loving,
I will have rode the Lonesome Dove,
I will have seen a flashflood racing,
As if turning rock to hazing steam,
I will have seen the lightening racing,
Like mad Banshees through Joshua Trees,
I will have seen flowers bloom in the desert,
Seen Mountains kiss the sky,
I will have seen some place where no man trod,
Before it graced my eyes.
I shall know the great High Lonesome,
In its blessed, empty , state,
And whether there is, or is not a God,
I will have surely seen its face.

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