New Poem: One Late Night Meeting with a Man

S P Clark has written a poem about a sexual experience with a person he met on a dating app. He has written about this aspect of his life in its various forms before in his books The Journey to Love, Two Men, One Love, and Discovery - all of which are stil lavailable to purchase. Please note that this poem does include graphic and explicit descriptions.

One Late Night Meeting with a Man

S P Clark

I Went There for Sex

I promised myself that I wouldn’t do it again

Said I wouldn’t use an app to fuck away the pain of loneliness and the strain of regret

I was beset with thoughts that lingered long and needed to forget them, so I found a guy

A man with whom I’d be anonymised

Disguised and disguising at the same time

Giving up my body so that my body and my thoughts are no longer mine.

We sent pictures and made a plan

I’d be in charge with this unknown man.

The Door

Within twenty minutes I was walking his road searching for the door; I like to keep my debauchery local.

I could almost smell the hedonistic pleasure as I stood facing his house; windows shining at me in the same powder blue as though they were bred from the same homozygous parents.

The door seemed imposing and I stood posing as I faced it.  Gearing myself up, readying and steadying myself for battle.  Armour on.  A brown so brown it was almost black; solid with wrought iron doorknocker, handle, and a broken letterbox whose flap hung like the missing tooth of a witch.

At first it loomed over me like the entrance to a great castle; stepping across the threshold would be like crossing a dried moat.  Then as my courage resisted the fear and returned, a fire burned inside me – I grew taller and strode ever closer.

As I knocked…it swung open.  Unlocked, inviting. 

The first perfect entrance of the night.

We Didn’t Speak

We stood facing each other with the door still swinging

He, remaining nameless, blinked his brown eyes and lured me in

He, remaining nameless, stood frozen; clinging

to the floor as my mind flooded with carnal lust and sin.

Silence dangled in the air and I could hear his heartbeat

I, becoming shameless, rubbed myself through my clothes

I, becoming shameless, grew harder like some backstreet

rent boy putting on after midnight shows.

He joined the performance as he sucked his finger

He, remaining nameless, placed it down the back of his jeans

He, remaining nameless, invisibly played and then let it linger

on his rosebud, anticipating the coming scenes.

In the hush his eyes began to yearn for more than his own touch

I, becoming shameless, dribbled spit into his open lips

I, becoming shameless, slowly saved saliva and spat such

flavours at his face and he imploringly thrust his hips.

The First Touch

I closed the front door

The street had seen enough.

I slammed the front door

This bit was just for us.

I walked towards him

His skin absorbing drool.

I walked around him

Teasing him with my scent.

My hand found his hair

Then played with every strand.

My hand gripped his hair

His first squeal filled the air.

Clothes Torn Off

I dragged him through the house, my hand wound in his locks, until we reached the kitchen.

“Scissors”, I demanded.

Then I cut him from his clothes very slowly, revealing his supple flesh one part at a time, dragging the cold blade against each detail as I worked my way from foot to top.  His body; a tapestry of tiny scratches for my enjoyment.  I don’t want him to be stultified with boredom in this fulfilling, unpaid whoredom.

“Dance”, I demanded.

And he danced…gently swaying his pale body

And he danced…gently raising his arms above his head

And he danced…gently scraping his fingernails over his pale body

And he danced…seductively doing just what I said

And he danced…gently showing me every inch of his pale body

And he danced…gently turning with his legs lightly spread

And he danced…gently bending forwards showing the depth of his pale body

And he danced…seductively running over his body with the fabric I’d shred.

“Here”, I demanded.

Then he floated towards me like a creamy vision of heat that was mine, all mine for the night.  I let him undress me slowly; so slowly that it was hard to notice my body revealing itself…but he noticed and his eyes swallowed the view.  Naked.

I dragged him through the house, my hands once again wound in his locks, until we reached the lounge.

“Kiss”, I demanded.

And his lips…gently traced an outline across my smooth body

And his lips…gently nuzzled in the groove of my collarbone

And his lips…gently sucked the nipples stiffly protruding from my smooth body

And his lips…seductively travelled down just as I had shown

And his lips…gently covered as he kissed slowly down my smooth body

And his lips…gently teased my thighs and he desirously began to moan

And his lips…gently feasted on every toe at the end of my smooth body

And his lips…seductively waited for permission as I filmed him on my phone.

Kneel

“Kneel”, I demanded

He, remaining nameless, obeyed.

“Open”, I demanded

He, remaining nameless, obeyed.

“Wider”, I demanded

He, remaining nameless, obeyed.

“Eyes open”, I demanded

He, remaining nameless, obeyed.

“Look at me”, I demanded

He, remaining nameless, obeyed.

“Take it all”, I demanded

He, remaining nameless, obeyed.

Held his head in position, took what was mine

Tears on his face, he was doing just fine

Rammed against his throat, he started to whine

Spitting and slapping his face, we both felt divine

He spluttered and choked, genuflected before the shrine

As I pounded much harder, I could see a clear sign

He was now in full submission, this man was all mine.

There Was No Space Between Us

I allowed him to guide me from the lounge to his bedroom where he’d prepared the room as we had arranged: rope coiled on the bedside table, two red candles burning, toys and whips lined up like soldiers about to penetrate the enemy lines.

Instinctively he went to touch himself but I batted his hand away.

Once in the room I gave instructions that he was to climb on the bed and lie face down.  He did.  I picked up a tickler and tentatively ran it down his body – top to toe – letting the feathers tease.

Instinctively he went to grasp his manhood but I swatted his hand away.

Now I picked up the metal claw and pressed its spikes firmly into the skin on the soles of his feet.  He squirmed and rutted against the bed sheet searching for relief.  I dragged those dagger fingers – toe to top – ever so leisurely that he was desperate and pleading to be feasted on.

Instinctively he went to stroke his cock but I roughly smacked his hand away.

It was time for rope

Knew he could cope as I lashed him to the bed

Arms at ten past ten, legs at twenty past eight

I was going to make him wait, anticipate the pleasure I would take.

I sat so he could see me as I very gradually, steadily played with my body

I sat so he could see me as I very gradually, steadily tasted myself; the juice, the sweat, the thing he now craved - his pleasure longed to be saved from his restriction.

I took the next step

He deserved more.

Hovering next to his bound up body I crouched down and ran my tongue from neck to toe and back again…so slowly that if I hadn’t pushed him to the edge of frustration he probably wouldn’t have noticed. 

I took the next step

He deserved more.

I clasped the candles in my hand and he, remaining nameless, spoke the words “hurry, please” and I knew he was ready.  I poured the red wax, red hot, down the curve of his tender spine, over his beautiful thighs and feet.  My toy for one night was in bliss and so was I.

I took the next step

He deserved more.

Rough cord was fastened around his balls so I could tug and pull making him yelp in delight. 

Instinctively he tried to raise his arse towards me but I forced him back down.

I took the next step

He deserved more.

I began to lick, bite and smack the cheeks of his milky little arse until they were blushing with handprints and bloody from biting.

Instinctively he tried to lift his arse to my bite but I pushed him back down.

I took the next step

He deserved more.

Flat-tongued I coated his winking hole with spittle and tasted his hankering, sweat-and-juice–filled pangs.  I let my tongue enter him and dined on his flesh like it was the last meal I would ever eat.

Instinctively he tried to push his arse closer but I kicked him back down.

One foot on his head and my tongue in his crack he began to rut wildly on the bed and then he screamed and I knew he had climaxed.  Naughty!  I untied him and rolled him on his back, retied his hands but not his legs, and cleaned him with my mouth.

Instinctively he lifted his legs over his head, he knew what was about to happen.  He knew there’d be no space between us.  I roped his legs to his hands and whispered in his ear, “tell me how you want it”.

“Rough”.

“I can’t hear you”.

“Rough”.

“I can’t hear you”.

“Rough”.

“I can’t hear you”.

“Rough”.

“I can’t hear you”.

“Rough”.

I heard him.

Instinctively I knew what to do!

After, Just Breath and Sweat

Just as the sun poured through the window

I poured myself into him and collapsed in messy heap on top of his tied up body, feeling myself soften inside him.

It was virtual peace

After the screaming, yelling and angry moans and pained yelps there was nothing left but the sound of breath, and the smell of sex and sweat in the air.

Satiated. A different kind of pain.

Ritualistic; I removed, strand-by-strand, the binds that held him where I had wanted him

Ritualistic; I kissed, softly and tenderly, the skin beneath each rope that held him where I had wanted him

Ritualistic; I licked, sensuously and hungrily, every inch and tasted myself oozing out of where I had taken him

Ritualistic; I opened, eagerly and willingly, my mouth and let him take charge and unload once more in the spot where I had taken him.

Cleanse

Water falling over us

As we wiped and delicately bathed away the anger, frustration and pain that led us to this place

Cleansing ourselves and our souls underneath the hot stream from the shower where we couldn’t see the tears that may have fallen.

I Got What I Came for and Left

I opened the door and heard the flap on the wrought iron letterbox shudder and clatter

Stepped outside into the morning light and the sound of people wending their way to work

Turned to face him as he closed the door.

That’s all there was to it – he had what he wanted and so did I.

I got what I came for and departed

I got what I came for and headed for adventures uncharted

If this is what I wanted…why am I downhearted?  

© S P Clark