tagErotic PoetryFalling Rain- story poem

Falling Rain- story poem


Falling Rain- story poem

Mabel Mercer worked as a maid
Thirty years she toiled at her trade
To keep rooms clean and swell
Treated the guests very well
These days she's a little grey
Sagging tits in a nice way
But years ago a firecracker
Money was the prime factor
Had a kid, the father skipped
Had to make the best of it
Hotel guests got to know
For a discrete tip they got a blow
Job and for some more
They got to fuck her on the floor
Or on the bed or in the shower
As long as it took less than an hour
The Head of Housekeeping got a cut
From this hard working slut
But the guests appreciated the treat
She was a sex partner hard to beat
She had no scruples providing pleasure
Finger in the ass, foreplay at leisure
She put her son thru private school
Taught him all society's rules
He told kids he was a diplomat's son
That his family had to run
When a dictator took over on the fly
Kids never realized it was a lie
So mom kept serving guests
In ways simple for you to guess
I met her when I stayed there too
Was very horny, needing a screw
Watching porno, I was leaner
When she burst in with the vacuum cleaner
She put down the machine and leaned
My dick was standing and erect
Ready for her to inspect
She deep throated, not easy with my cock
That once caused a gal's jaw to lock
So whenever I wanted in room "desert"
I made sure to insert
My flagstaff in her sweet lips
Be they her mouth or clit
I donated enough sperm in her tank
To start a New York sperm bank
Mabel never disappointed
Treated me as if anointed
As time passed we became fast friends
Dined and shopped and I would spend
Cloths for her and her son's treat
Who ended up a bond trader on Wall Street
I got him a job with a friend of mine
Staked him fifty G's which was fine
In a pair of years he paid me back
With an account that allowed Mabel to retire
After all these years she'd lost her fire
To fuck every guest for some extra cash
Then clean the room and quickly dash
Come 9/11 we took a hit
Something we could not predict
Her kid was in the tower that fell
Believe me she didn't take it well
I invited her out to stay with me
I'd retired to Miami and living free
I did my best to cheer her up
Not easy with an empty cup
I told her not to feel a need
To do anything but relax indeed
I sent her out to do her hair
Found her all new cloths to wear
Eventually she recovered you know
But we still can't watch a TV show
That shows the Tower like falling rain
You can't remove that from your brain
She's struggled on to find a life
Without her boy and lives as my wife
Sex is not so important now to me
I take Viagra occasionally
I get my thrill when our eyes meet
Every morning that's my treat
I know I don't have long to go
I pray to God that time will slow
Sometimes I dream of long ago
When the three of us would go
To the Radio City Christmas Show
She and I would hold Bobbie's hands
Gee, those times were simply grand!

(I wrote this while in NYC last week and thought to run it on the anniversary of 9/11 but in view of the Boston Marathon Massacre I chose to submit it now.)

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