On the couches of the Seraglio

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This is Rahab's poem of Sapphic love.
247 words
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On the couches of the Seraglio,

she offers me a peach,

I proffer back a pomegranate,

but keep it just out of reach.

She selects for me a melon,

of pinky-coloured hue,

and I give to her one

of honeydew.

She puts to my lips,

a slice of watermelon,

to take it and to and suck,

slowly spitting out the pips.

She smiles at me, as I give her,

my pomegranate sweet,

and she sucks so hard,

and she offers me a pear.

Our faces so wet, they glisten,

shining like the morning dew,

and we look and giggle

at the eunuchs as they listen.

They hear our words, see us play.

but understand so little,

as they watch impotently,

as thus we pass our day.

I play with the Sultana, as she

plays with me, and as for the

great Padisha,

why care for such as he?

He has each of us one night alone,

and the year would half suffice,

between one night and the next,

were I one of those he vexed

I ply him instead with tales,

of martial arms and valour,

and amuse him with my chatter,

and so I douse his fire.

If he should want my service,

it will be with my lips, but not

as others serve him,

but as he has come to wish.

But with my sweetest heart’s delight,

I play the giggling kitten,

as we feed each other fruit,

and I long for her at night.

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DampKittenDampKitten2 months ago

So, I like the fact that a sultana can be both a seedless raisin and a concubine - sort of double entendre for your foodie piece. There's definitely a sexual association in literature between food and other entertainments which you demonstrate great ability to emphasize. You have a metaphorical air.

As for the sultan, pour some water on it. He's an unlikely appetizer. It's good to have a taste for variety.

I enjoyed this...

PixiehoffPixiehoffover 4 years agoAuthor
Thank you Anonymous

How lovely - I enjoyed that.

AnonymousAnonymousover 4 years ago
Ah, yes!

Ah, yes, comes the night

When prying eyes are out of sight.

I secretly slip beneath the cover

To become this night your only lover.

I pull your thighs apart

So into your garden my tongue can dart.

Your sweetness is like a tree-ripened pear

As my mouth licks beneath your curly hair.

I turn about so you can do the same to me

As we kiss each other with girlish glee.

When we are done and our orgasm has come

I must slip out and quickly run

Before my man notices I'm not there,

As he also wants my body to share.

PixiehoffPixiehoffover 4 years agoAuthor
Thank you Tazz

Thank you. No, all comments, even mine, go into moderation.

PixiehoffPixiehoffover 4 years agoAuthor
Thank you so much, Stroudle

I am so, so glad you like this. There will be more poetry as the story continues.

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