Erotic Muses: Euterpe

I

I have a pipe that I'd like you to play.
It is a firm, hard piece of wood.
Put your fingers along the length, and in the hole
Blow; I'll then sigh a most melodious lay.
Your technique is so very good!
You make a magic flute of my long, happy pole!
Your loving lips and mouth make my pipe sing,
O goddess of wind instruments.
You're like a bagpiper because you hold my bag
So expertly; you make all my notes ring
With such divine magnificence,
We make the music of the spheres--my balls don't sag
When you play with them. They both jump and dance
Below your flickering five fingers.
You breathe in me: I feel your spirit flit and fly
Inside me; you have put me in a trance.
Your inspiration ever lingers,
Making an aria out of my every sigh.
Now, teach me, goddess, how to sing to you.
Connected to me with your blowing,
You make my body tremble with an awesome pleasure.
Inspire me now to do what you can do.
Inside your mouth, my pipe is growing:
I would give you that ecstasy in equal measure.
Now, my creative juices all gush out;
I splash love on your pretty face.
You grin, my goddess, as my drops run down your cheeks.
Teach me what pleasing you is all about.
Between your legs there is a space:
My mouth down there, I'd learn your best blowing techniques.

II

You have a mouth organ I'd like to play.
It is a hollow instrument.
I put my lips around the largest hole, and blow;
To make you sing high, this is how I pray
To you, my goddess. I imprint
My tongue's wild longing on you, for I love you so.
To play a single note, and not a chord,
I wrap my lips around two holes;
My tongue plugs one hole, then I blow into the other.
Your anus and vagina thus explored,
We feel the union of our souls:
Me, your devotee, with you, lovely pagan mother
Divinity of woodwind symphonies.
I wish to learn your oral skills,
For you deserve to have a virtuoso hum
On you to make you squeal wild ecstasies.
My blowing, I hope, gives you thrills:
I draw my breath in and taste your sweet savours come
Inside me, then you sigh a pretty note;
I blow out, and you moan a pitch
A step or half-step higher, sometimes lower. Do
These movements up or down at all connote
Your pleasure raised or lowered? Which
Way should I blow to get the most delight from you?
Your pink, hairy harmonica is wet:
My mouth did moisten it somewhat,
But is any of that sweet water your love juice?
With fears that none is yours I am beset.
To give you any pleasure but
The gushing kind is, of your mouth organ, abuse.

III

Goddess, let's play a wind duet together.
We'll find an opus sixty-nine
For my flute and your horn, in perfect harmony.
Our lips and tongues will near each other's nether
And secret places. There, we'll twine
And blow into each other's holes a melody.
You, from above, blow down into my pipe;
I, from below, blow up in you,
For you, my queen of heaven, with the gods belong,
And I, an earthly mortal, not your type,
Would do what worshippers must do,
And hope I harmonize with your inspiring song.
You have two holes on your shiny, bronze trumpet:
Two tasty places I can kiss.
They make musicians' lips and tongues most happy players,
For playing you is blowing no mere strumpet;
No whore could ever match the bliss
You give when I play you--my notes, musical prayers
To you, goddess of all erotic hymns.
Playing the lower, larger hole,
I make you moan; but when I play the smaller, upper
Opening, you sigh up high and shake your limbs
As I do when you play my pole.
May this musical feast be an eternal supper!
At this banquet of blowing, my long flute
Becomes a cup that overflows;
Your cornucopia, though, is a mystery
To my sad eyes, for I can't see the fruit
Of my long labours--nothing shows.
Is your juice cunningly hidden? Don't torture me.