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. 

💃💃☕️📚😜

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