Erotic Poetry

Poem: Poling Polar

Polar vortex, snow up to my thighs like anything not plowed is lava,
cold biting through windows while we huddle naked on a blanket you spread
after feeding me scallops fried in canola oil on a cast iron skillet.

You gave me six orgasms with your finger and tongue,
so much pleasure crashing my crotch I didn’t mind
when you slipped a finger up my butt and let me
fuck both to pleasure a fifth, a sixth time
before you rolled me over, used your thumb
and plugged me with your dick until
you came on my back.

This is how I break the coldest night in history.

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