Why do some men remember me?

It is freakish, it is

strange
It is alarming, sometimes charming
It is a lottery, a game of chance
And sometimes depressing

I often want to forget
But not to be forgotten
To be thought of fondly
And not to be rotten

I want to excite
In fantasies and dreams
To warm ageing minds
And lift dormant cocks

I want to be on your lips
And on your tongue
I want to be whispered
And to know it was fun

Because that makes it so much better

Men with moustaches

When I look at a man
I always see a moustache
A black moustache
A black, curly moustache

Men like wearing my moustache
They look at me with greedy eyes
Wearing my moustache
Eating my moustache

I see tongues vanishing
Into my moustache
I see a tongue darting
In an out of my moustache

Men wear my moustache
Until they dress and then return it
For someone else to wear
And they do!

Club Prive Roma

  In a club Prive

In a Club Prive
Naked
I sat talking
About the weather

In a Club Prive pool
Naked and wet
I sat in conversation
About football

In a Club Prive bar
Still naked
I complained
About the price of food

In a Club Prive private room
Naked but covered by men
I was fucked
Again and again

The umbrella would not open

It was a grey day
An English grey
Smudged and smeared
Blacks and whites
Scythed the skies
And mottled shades of
Dark and light
Sank into the horizon
And lay in wait
For the morrow

The night ejected the grey
Like a smoker's breakfast smoke
And street lights haze
Made angels appear
And the floating whites
Of car headlights oft dazzled
And splattered the pavement
Spotlighting dog shit drying
As moonlight spat

And the spits became splodges
And hair dampened
Dripping over my face
Smudging mascara
And revealing a nocturnal warrior
Intent on being dry
But revelling in the damp
The umbrella snapped into action
But would not open

A broken umbrella
Like an unfulfilled life
Hanging around in useless anticipation
For something, but inert
And the rain only deepens
The frustration
Of getting wetter
But carrying a weapon
Of the past

Leaves

Autumn Leaves

Yellow and browns, the autumn outfit
Some want to sparkle
And throw on the red dress
The very red dress
The dress that means I want action
But most settle for brown and yellowish shades

None remain blemish free
But most contain the stains of a summer party
Some cling to the past like a leech
Even October winds cannot induce a fall
They wave defiantly above the carpet of friends
Who once created summer shade
And a respite from August heat

But like all, they will fall
As winter's chill knocks and grey skies plough the heavens
The last leaf falls, dropping like a tired child's eyelids
After an exciting day
But already life is stirring within the sturdy trunk
The life blood of tomorrow's leaves stir
Slightly, awaiting spring and a new passage of time
A passage of time when the leaves of Fall
Are quickly forgotten
And all looks forward to the blossom and the buds

He Wanted Creampie!!!! Prose for Pros 52

Creampies are fattening and more!

I am an escort
I am a whore
So I am often surprised
What men ask me for

They beg me
They chide me
They implore me
They haggle
They plead and they never relent

They want me natural
They want me without
They want me bareback
They want me raw

They want their seed inside me
They want it seeping
From my hole
They want me to be their sperm bank
To be a creampie slut

But I am constant
I am sure
I am a still alive whore
Because although I love to play
I love to have fun
I love a cock
And I love to fuck
But I also love life too

So please be content with the games that we play
I'm just  making sure we are here to play another day

I think that I have made a lot more tyres!!!!

dariax@hotmail.co.uk
0039 3281769818