In Praise Of Cock

There's a certain
magnificence
I find in a
soaring cock when

it has stiffened
to full length, and
the drop of pre-
cum at the head

feels thicker and
tastes saltier;
when with each touch

of tongue along
the plum tip ridge
causes tremors,
elicits sighs.

Skin stretched smooth
as silk with each
vein standing out
in bold relief

to be traced like
a road map's trails
to the base where
balls like playful

puppies roll in
the palm of my
hand that warms them
through long thin hairs.

To take or be
Taken, that's the
question of the
moment, whether

more ecstasy
may be found in
capturing with
slow downward thrust

or deep probe rammed
hard within the
moist tight trap.
Consummation

most desired from
above, below,
perhaps behind.
Or even tease

from the stiff stem
a gush of heat
to flood my mouth
with draught of seed.

It is at those
moments I hold
power over
whomever may
be my lover

of the moment.
Power I've earned,
power I'll wield
for my pleasure,

foremost and first
While he, wrapped
in an illusion
of dominance,

actually
rises or falls
upon my whim,
at my command.

What fools mortal
men be to think
it is we who
have been seduced.