I’ll Be Your Blue Tulip Rose

Contributor: Paul Tristram

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I shall wait outside your home
I will follow you in the street.
If you let me have five minutes
I’d tear off both of your feet.
I’d run right home delighted
and put them in a glass case.
I’d invite around my friends
but hire security just in case.
Anybody gets any funny ideas
and tries to steal my treasure.
My beloved’s severed body parts
would simply be my only pleasure.
I have followed you for years
waited for hours outside hotels.
I gave my true love from afar
my normal life I had to sell.
But if I had your genius toes
to kiss and hold to each night.
I would cover up your shrine
and masturbate with you held tight.


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Paul Tristram is a Welsh writer who has poems, short stories and sketches published in many publications around the world, he yearns to tattoo porcelain bridesmaids instead of digging empty graves for innocence at midnight, this too may pass, yet.
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Night before Last

Contributor: J. E. Sifton

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I spent the night before last with her. We started at the cinema, then grabbed a drink, then another. Sitting close at the bar, my hand already in-between her legs, warm to my touch. Cabbing back to her place, convincing her to model for me was easier than I expected, kissing my neck as we stumbled in.
I chose her outfit: shapely black leggings (who doesn't have a fetish for Lulu?) and a tight white 'beater. Positioning her on the bed, I began shooting with my appareil photo, slowly peeling away the layers.
Beginning with her upturned ass, capturing the tattoo on her lower back atop the tiny grey thong. Her ass begs to be bit and licked and slapped hard. Her slender stomach is revealed as I slowly rolled up her white top. Hip bones are pronounced, forming a valley between two arched hills accentuating her diminutive frame.
The bra now undone slinks down to her midriff, with her arms bent supporting her head—dark, sensuous hair drapes her playful face—idyllic. A nervous smile plays across her lips as I instruct her to arch her back and look down in that innocent way she does.
Recollection brings a stir to my body, lying face down, my dick presses hard into my mattress.
I position her, panties down to her knees, shyly exposing her narrow strip of hair that leads inside. Her vagina is tasty—its tight lips frame the whole—and when pulled away by the hand's most delicate touch, pinkness floods. So tight I sometimes think I'm halfway up her ass only to discover with curious fingers it's her cunt I am fucking.
Her legs and stomach are bronzed fresh from the South American sunshine from her recent trip home. The three triangles of lighter flesh speak to her timidity, not one to partake in the nude beaches of her native country, but the tan lines are deceitful because this girl takes it in every hole.
At one point, I tell her to stand, head against the wall, leaning ass out, and grasp tight her ass, spreading her cunt and asshole for the camera. The crafty little hole remains shut tight like a little girl's eyes against the terror of the unknown.
I treat her asshole to my tongue and finger. Mouth fucking her sensitive areas, I prepare for penetration. Easing her into it with my tongue flicks and finger play, she lies on her back, moaning with head grinding against the pillow. Her muscles clench as I tease her, and then loosen. Spit on my fingers, playing with her holes. She keeps one arm down, her hand made to expose her clitoris. Slurp. I slowly climb her body, pausing to kiss her stomach, sticking my tongue in her navel, something that a fit body demands. Her breasts with those perfect, dark nipples are sensitive to my tender bites and perk to my touch.
I tell her I am going to fuck her slow in the ass. I spit on my hardened cock, rub her hole once more and instruct her to insert me into her. Her searching hand finds my member, and fumbles to stick it in. Once, twice, my hard cock is in, but stuck at the end of the head, I flex it, streaming new blood and engorging it, and she squirms in shock and pain. I go slow, repeatedly sticking it in and out. I tell her I will be gentle, and her eyes tense shut and clenched teeth expose her compliance.
I begin to gain speed, and my penis can go further in. My pumping grows stronger, and I flip her on her stomach. I spread her ass cheeks out, and stare at my member, arrested for a moment, as it disappears into the brown hole of the Brazilian. 'For once there was a cock, and then there was not.'
Her bronze back shows muscle strain and her head is buried in the white pillows, contrasting sharply with her long dark hair all askew.
My pumping reaches climax , letting her know I will be cumming soon. At the last possible moment, I withdraw, and pump my cock once more as spurts of hot, white cum spray all her back and ass, and reaches up her left shoulder. Her little back tattoo is covered and I smile at the sight.
With care, I wipe her back and body with tissues, only to clean myself once she is made fresh once again.


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A Question-Less Answer

Contributor: Paul Tristram

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I was up!
I was tripping?!?!
I had finally done it.
Two hundred magic mushrooms.
It was not funny like people had said
even though I was laughing.
There were no giant rats.
I was not being chased by pink elephants.
Huge Pac-men were not eating my feet.
And there was absolutely no sign of nuns with piranha faces.
It was just me laughing and crying all at the same time.
I was with five other people but I felt totally alone.
Just me and my ruptured personality.
There was wave after wave of emotional fear.
A dangerous intoxicating excitement.
I was scared shitless but I was enjoying it.
I started chewing the inside of my mouth, I bit too hard,
it bled, it felt good.
I took a drink from my cider bottle.
I didn’t need the cider.
I didn’t need fuck all!
I was finally tripping.
I had found a hidden question-less answer.


- - -
Paul Tristram is a Welsh writer who has poems, short stories and sketches published in many publications around the world, he yearns to tattoo porcelain bridesmaids instead of digging empty graves for innocence at midnight, this too may pass, yet.
Read more »
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