The game be on,
The hounds let slip,
When ‘ere we gather
To trade in quips,
And lines,
And lies,
And nibbles and dips,
Our stage set ‘twixt plays ‘tween cup and lip.

Our minds eye, calm, surveys the breach,
Wherein we would all pleasure reach,
As targets pass,
And prey evades,
Our quest
For ingénue
Or at times a jade.

Oh how many sad, forlorn of hope,
Sought hard to mount such buttressed slopes,
Upon whose peaks,
Arrayed and brave,
Stood the prize,
Set to slay hero or sad knave,
Or set,
To seduce, ensnare, enslave.

I value high such sweet recall,
Set on grass, and sand, or ‘gainst a wall,
Where moments spanned an empires fall,
As friendly fire,
Then red not blue,
Raged and rocked,
Embroiled all sense
And consumed all.

She proclaimed herself as sweet Siobhan,
Was known to lay mens’ souls in pawn,
Set against a debt,
Once borne,
And gathered by abuses to me unknown,
And my hidden smile did hail her aim,
That night she painted me , the game,
Both, wordless, knew the chase be on.

Marooned, self-willed, in crowded space,
She wetted lips and stroked my face,
She slid sweet breast against my arm,
Enacting all the usual charms,
Her skirt,
It shamed desires own intent,
Revealing legs,
So surely heaven sent,
Enhanced by leather, arch and steel,
All formed as hex-like stiletto heel.
Her hips,
Ohhh they swayed e’en whilst she sat,
Her breasts caressed those words of chat,
Slipping from her inner heat,
Meant to disturb calm,
And my very control, set to eat.

I new the moment she tasted doubt,
No alarum,
No hue nor cry,
No spotters shout,
A simple flicker,
Of lash and brow,
Did whisper truth she knew not how,
Like many more I had not fell,
Beneath that oft’ensaring spell,
Her pulse did quicken ,
Her blood did race,
She strove yet more
To fix the pace,
As on chosen field,
And chosen day
She sought me, the trophy, down to lay,
Before the self-entempled shrine,
Midst offerings,
Silly canapés and wine.
Like trophies gathered night on night,
She sensed a strange and wondrous plight,
Beset her like some mantle chill and cold,
Could it be, any prey,
Might evade her hold.

Siobhan was blessed by beauty’s grace,
In body, wit , form and face,
She’d worked her way,
The warrior Queen,
By most she’d seen,
Defeat, a vintage she had yet to taste.

I had seen so many mince,
And fawn,
So many failures,
In failure spawned,
As all the usual suspects swarmed,
To fall,
On self-made,
Satyr’s horns.

This was the game of sweet Siobhan,
She sought the scalps,
From victims torn,
Who thought they knew,
Had claimed that form,
That Hunter,
Banshee ?, sweet Morrigan ?,
Exquisite, ohhhhh, my voodoo chile ,Siobhan.

That night,
In shrouded doubt like gloom,
She knew her way was lost,
Despite we formed on her own loom,
Hesitating like never before.
Her eyes played on ploys,
More on evermore,
And not once did my gentle smile dain to slip,
But held and held its stoic grip,
Whilst lies, denied,
Were hidden hard,
By smiles,
So pure,
By both my eyes, and by my lips.

A moment’s mystery confused her charms,
As my gentle finger,
Travailed her arm,
A touch slight,
And light,
So casual cast,
So brief, impassioned,
Yet so swiftly, the past.
All others sought for even a finger,
‘pon innocuous touch,
all night to linger,
as if that graze
might hold the key,
to let a hand enfold a knee,
and then to rise,
to seek and slide,
to part sweet limbs a
and quest inside,
to scout
on point
to pathfind the way
for other storming games to play.
Oh gods they summoned
And to devils prayed
Such sacrifice they would have made
If she might succumb
And frenzy,
Be layed and laid

Thus confusion worked its spell,
As her ploys,
Well tried,
In failure fell,
And time it came to take our leave,
Already sweet Siobhan did grieve,
For this night had ended days,
Where all she sought
Had frozen in her gaze,
And even as they sought to cocks unfurl,
Siobhan would whisper,
I am not that sort of girl.

Before my turn,
I did decide,
That all my want
I would hard hide
Behind a hard dispassionate screen
Where no slightest trace
Of my lust be seen,
For truth be told,
And truth faced a test,
I hungered to taste
Lips, hair, legs,
Ribs, roses, eyes ears and nose,
And all the rest.
For she was in truth
The thoroughbred,
Set to strut
And stalk her fearsome youth,
And I had determined,
She would one day know my bed.

We arm in arm did take our leave,
Her trembling hand lay on my sleeve,
Outside one glance
Asked chill or thrill,
As eruptions through thin cloth
Sought to spill,
We walked the gloom,
I made so bold,
Offering my coat against the cold,
And even as I wrapped it round
Her lips came closer,
Then sighed one sound.
Her word so soft,
So clear
Asked in muted trembling fear.
that expected word,
That welcome, ‘why’
‘why what’ I gave the only sane reply.
‘why not you, why don’t you want me’
she asked as if in grief.
As if her soul had met some thief.
Moist glimmers had beset her eyes.
Her body pressed,
Hinting firmest breasts and most supple thighs
Her question echoed ‘pon her quivering lips
As my feeling transformed breasts to tits.
‘why don’t you want me , why not you’
I smiled,
I spoke.
But Siobhan , ‘I do.’

Her mouth sought to feed
As if long fast
Had denied her flesh
Withheld all repast
Her heat exploded,
Fierce and raw
As if she threw wide a furnace door,
No moment lost,
To time
Or space,
I walked her backwards from that place
And to an alley we did locate
Whilst now,
I sought to storm that once defended gate.
As mouths , vampyrric , entwined in dance
I unleashed my hunger, its self to sate.

Hands to thighs,
Swift raised her skirt,
No pause,
No chance
To question when , if , or yet,
And higher, higher, to heat and wet,
Fingers travelled
Hot flesh they met.
Lips and teeth
Sought lower claim
As Siobhan sighed my very name,
And then her body tensed so tight
About my finger
Granting right,
To roam,
And search and claim and tame,
This glorious huntress
Rich in fame,
Her skirt ,
A belt,
Her thong cast aside.
My legs moved apart her , now ,
Eager thighs.
Already freed, my cock explored
That place
So many held in awe,
Encircled by her swollen want
I slid within that hallowed font
Where life be laid
And hope might haunt
And hope knows need
And hunger
Against the wall her back did press,
As length stole all of sight and sense,
She sighed
And writhed
And arched and tensed
And by her own hands bared her breasts,
I, whom she had sought to play the fool,
Took all, the orbs, the crown, the jewel,
With thrust on thrust
I drove her deep and hard
She took
So eager
All life made hard
As feeling burst in sudden shock,
And a soul,
Briefly drained from a spasming cock.
Siobhan , she sighed,
She mewled,
She wept,
Yet no sadness into being leapt.
Her body spasmed ,so hard did it squeeze,
In joy denied Abelarde and Eloise.
In panting,
Eager tones
She asked,
So sweet
‘now take me home’
she giggled
‘no more bullshitting silly stuff,
oh, Christ,
how did you know I love,
want it.
Need it rough’.

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