Jasmine’s Sparrow

Sparrows I could watch all day, The way they hop and fight and play. I watch them through the window’s glass, In my garden, bold as brass. I want to put them in my mouth, Squeeze their bones, feel them bounce In my cupped hands, their little beaks Pecking as they scratch and squeak. I…

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I have this splinter in my heart. Cold and sharp, it makes me start. It has no business being there, I wish I could learn not to care. A proper person minds it not, Their woes, once felt, are soon forgot. They brush away their tears and smile, All is forgiven, in a while. But…

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To Child, Or Not To Child?

Your hair would be a curly mane,

As dark as deepest night.

Your lips would be a cherry red,

Your eyes so blue and bright.

Your skin, the colour of spun gold,

As caramel as his,

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Tales of Sexuality: Alias, Briony

I would make love to him now and then, although so often I would lie in his arms, frustrated and aroused, wanting him to treat me dirtily, to put his mouth on my sex and make me quiver. But he was too shy. He would rub up against me, his arms wrapped around me and his erection pressing into my back, nuzzling my neck. But he was too nervous to pin me down and take me as I wanted to be taken.

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