Blind Tinder Match. XIX century

Idea: blind tinder match between two neighbours (XIX century)
Form: poetry

He:

Sweet nymph,
your grace speaks loudly to men’s heart –
who could withstand your virgin writing?
I truly cherish all your nods and puffs
but still, would love to see… at least your hair.
In any place you wish. Please,
send my fate immediately!
Longing…

She:

My Matadore! Mr. Wisdom!
It happens way too fast.
My heart enlarges. Oh!
Is it the spring of action
or the wild desire for a hot sword?
Collecting breath inside of broken temple…
Can you feel it –
the tight rotation of ten thousand passions
Under my skin? Stop! Now!
Can’t hide from you my face,
but still believe – I wish to.

I took one hundred shots of boobs today – 
am I whore?
Including silly bird and also – that idiot,

unmarked fibre, leaf of nothing,
the gross of humankind,
who lives downstairs.

Which one do you prefer?

He:

I’m happy for the first time in a hundred years.
Truly, Tinder sends me an angel – wild and devoted.

She:

Yes, I am devoted to the burning cuddles…
I hope that after seeing you in action
I would be able to get back from the Dead.
My life is boring, ah! It is my fate!

(she sends a picture)

He:

Let me see…
Awww, pink-coloured clouds of the Goddess!
My falling heart is drunk and out of mercy.
The room is bright again
and the sword is ready!
It grows, it jumps – Alas!
It gives a new refreshing meaning to my life.

She:

It is your turn, Mister Who-Never-Tried-To-Live!
No offense. I’m rude when I’m horny.
I would love love love love
to see a superior part of your body
… fighting the demons. 

He:

I call it the music… of our hearts,
beating as one.
Foolish me,
Yes, me,
who still believes in love.

My balls are spinning,
shouting for your thirsty mouth.
Wait!

She:

My hair is rising and my body is moaning your name.
Pull my head closer, slam it onto steel-a-like Magic Rooster.

He:

Here he is – my strong and humble Adonis.
Crying the corals of sperm
and weeping for salvation. God bless him!

(He sends a picture)

She:

I can’t breathe! Satan!
I recognize your mustacho,
Mr. Nothing or Idiot
who lives downstairs.
The one, who sends me pink dildos
straight to the door, every Sunday.

I was planning to end up
on the back of my chair,
violently touching my Harbour –
stretching the soil of pride…
But now WHAT?

You are the destroyer! Of the lonely dreams!
Good-bye! Shutting down this chat! I am dead!

He:

I’m furious!!
Women of Tinder – what a nightmare!

Let me check the photo of your boobs again,
to calm down…

 

The poem Blind Tinder Match is from my upcoming book “42 Degrees of Truth: Blue Giraffe” (satirical poetry).
This is book #2 in the series (packed with erotica, but without descriptions, mostly ERO GURO + fun conversational erotica) – will be released 1st December. 

My thriller Sophia von X will be released in January. I need more time to polish it. 

So Absurd It Must Be True, Book #2 – will be released 1 March 2020

💃💃☕️📚😜


Next post – Love what you write – #takeawaykeys 

 

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31 Responses

  1. masercot says:

    Shit just got surreal!

  2. alexraphael says:

    Funny and adultly romantic! Nicely done!

  3. Ah what a nightmare.

  4. Sorryless says:

    You write Tinder the way Dante Alighieri would have.

  5. I lost the plot but loved the gist of this!

  6. Some of the descriptions were the best. My favorite “would love to see… at least your hair. In any place you wish.” 😂

  7. I’ve an idea period century ‘filthy’ Tinder would actually read like your poem! Love it! 🙂

  8. Victoria Ray, you have a great blog. I have nominated you for the Sunshine Blogger Award. If you wish to participate please click the link for details: https://drmarthacastrodoctor.com/2019/11/21/sunshine-blogger-award-nomination/

  9. kinkyacres says:

    My-O-My, said the Spider to the Fly!

Don't be so shy...

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