Forbidden Fruits

Forbidden Fruits

They told me lies
as if the lies would stop the flood
of surging hormones
that pulsed my genitalia,

pulsing stronger through my mind,
until at night,
I touched and fondled,
stroked and came with muffled cries

Fondling flesh that bore forbidden fruit—
so they said—and why forbidden?
when such pleasure gave such tinglings
in the genitalia of my mind

warm and rigid flesh,
wanting to plunge inside
and slip and slide
and cause eruptions in a lover’s mind

I stroked and rubbed my blood gorged rod
pink shaft and purple headed
Fingers wrapped the veined, ridged warmth,
and slid the loose skin firmly,

as I thought of luscious cavern walls,
‘neath soft and flaccid petals
and imagined fingers that probed and futched,
and caused her toes to stab the midnight sky

I rubbed my hardened flesh, oft red and smarting,
until I spilled my sperm, all white
then smoothed my sensual aloe
over flesh with trembling hands,
on dry sheets, or towels close at hand

I licked my fingers, salty sweet
the product of my passioned body
white aloed essence that I fancied
flowing in canals banked by warm and spongy walls


Sweet treats, forbidden fruit—
who gave a damn of what they said?
when lust and fantasy so strained
at the siren’s call for hands to rub in ecstasy

Pleased, and stained,
the gentle cum balm eased my pain
Aha! They lied!

No hairy palms or stunted growth
no blindness, hearing loss, or both,
just ecstasy when no one was near;
not conjugal—well that was for sure.