Note: You can change font size, font face, and turn on dark mode by clicking the "A" icon tab in the Story Info Box.
You can temporarily switch back to a Classic Literotica® experience during our ongoing public Beta testing. Please consider leaving feedback on issues you experience or suggest improvements.
Click hereIt was long ago I read it, but I think
when Mellors used that word, cunt,
that Connie found she wasn't shocked
and lay down open to him. My time
was different. It was a boy, very thin
and earnest. He recited Keats to me
in the close crucible of my dorm room.
Then he was too tender and it hurt. Cried,
because I did, a torn memory that's forgot.
I went on to other men, some good, most not.
My husband is just one of them. Children
tie me to his stifled heart. I'm in his bed
like aspirin, to treat the fever, body ache,
the odd tension in his head. Fellatio
seems magically to relieve these things,
lift those cursed symptoms off his limbs.
But I want Connie's Oliver. I want that cock.
I want my ego to survive. I want to want.
Except for the overly declarative (to my taste) last line the poem was as candid personal and strong as usual. Keep it strong!