He/She's and let me see's.

One of my favorite blogs Lust Bites had some fun postings this week and funny enough two separate topics tied in to one experience I had. I decided to do a spin off, I hope no one minds, but I wanted to post some pix of the night in question and I wanted to put them here as I have been picking up too much spyware from photobucket.

Earlier in the week we talked of voyeurism and exhibitionism. Today the topic was about men who dress as women.

Back in April I had the opportunity to perform my standup comedy with a group of men/women doing a burlesque show. It was held at an upbeat gay bar in downtown Vancouver. It was the best time I'd had in years and it will always be fun to look back and remember that night. The men in drag were all so awesome. We did our standup comedy show 1st. Then they did their burlesque show, with the loud music and the buzz in the air we were all dancing with them. OK I was, I had met my friend there and he being in a wheel chair with a large respirator on the back, we were almost on the stage as there was not much room elsewhere and so with me standing by his side the music of course had me bouncing all over. Lastly was a pair of lesbians who played the most hypnotic African drum music. Watching these two gals playing their drums, the way they stared at each other the whole time they played together was very erotic, it was so hot.

That night my friends and I had a blast. Not to mention the ton of Jim Beam and Jack Daniels I was downing like water, then the fact that my other friend Jen had to practically hold me up and drag me off to her place via bus and skytrain. OK she did literally. My hero.

That night sparked a frenzy of writing between my friend and I for the next few days, we were in the habit of writing erotic poetry to each other as a form of correspondence and I will post some of it below, I've also posted other poems of ours in some of my past postings. Here is a taste of my night at Zhizome's.


ALLY wrote...
She snuck up from behind,
breathing soft in his ear so dear,
lick with a flick of her tongue,
along the vein of his neck, threatening to devour him.
Straddling and rocking to the beat,
of the primal African drumming humming,
her dark amber eyes aglow with the flow,
plunging his soul with lustful looks.
Taking his face in her hands gripping,
she sucks and plucks a bottom lip,
then a top lip, to sip and whip with a flip,
of her tongue before she drowns him with it.
Slipping her hot wet prod while he nod back,
she devours his mouth, sweet, treat, with heat,
searing his body with a kiss from the miss,
to make him want her wanton, wanting me.

The beat bangs at their ears,
while they bang on with cheers all around them,
the cat on him claws and yehaws,
as she rides the cuntrymusic like a bull horn.
Giving him a teat so sweet,
“Suck it my baby, suck, your in luck, I like to fuck!”
“While you have a mouthful, don’t speakeasy,
just please-me, please-me, squeeze-me.”

The drums get loud , thunder in the crowd,
they boom through the gloom of haze,
and come to a peak as they squeak,
together as one, they are done.
The crowd applauds.

APRIL SHOWERS


PAUL wrote...

Burlesque.
She did the splits for his gymnastics to take a spin on,
the light fantastic, licking slick to the quick, flicking,
tricking with treating, when eating the meting out,
of just, lust, desserts, asserting,
flirting, flounting, floating, on a flow,
of wow, now, do it now and how,
bring me low to sing me high C's, climbing to the trees.

Limbs akimbo doing the conga line and mambo,
our heads spinning with winning, twinning of minds meld,
like vulgar Vulvacans in heat, to greet,
the feat first in your class of titans, clashing,
crashing, thrashing, stashing, tongue lashing,
eyelashes fluttering like doves,
as I give your buns a buttering, as I shove from above,
stashing my shaft in your treasure chest cresting the breasts,
waving hello sailor as I tailor each lunge,
to your slick slave to your needs to be naughty women poem.

Pour in my cement, mix it up with the lynx minx
on the brink of blinking,
out the doubts with shouts from the roof top of her mouth,
a shaking in her south land of milk and honey,
waving her tits like flags of surrender,
as he throws her into the blender,
she exclaims his name of fame,
“Oh Jack! Oh Jack Daniels you came, you saw, you conquered.”
They dissolve in a cloud of laughter resolved.


ALLY replied...

Jimmy Beam.
Another night of romping through the raindrops of lick-her,
she espied Jim Beam as she fancied, prancied in the door,
with want of four on the floor, him in her door,
and a night of dining and whining.
Jim said “hey girl hows it hangin” as she grabs him by the balls,
and says “low n slow baby.”

Taking him to the back room with a booth,
with a tooth she pulled his zipper down,
and ripped his mean jeans off to see what he offered in his coffer.
“Twill do” she exclaimed as she pulled her dress above her head,
to show her wares with no under-wares.
Pushing him to sit in the seat while she was in heat of the night,
impassioned for his palate,
she climbed up on the table and spread the fine meal before him,
to dine out while she shout dirty everything’s at him.
Jimmy explored her back roads and inner cities,
while feeling up titties,
splashing through the puddles she was making,
running a muck, so perchance he could fuck.
She slithered on the table like an eel being eaten by the tail.
The screaming dinner bell rang out,
as she clanged her triangles tune,
wanting more but knowing she craved four on the floor,
with Jimmy’s beam driving his four by four.

Turning the table he pulled her and flipped her like a flapjack,
bending her over, and rammed her in her gear,
with his stick shift in all wheel squeal,
and laid into her with great thrust.
As she lay top half on the table,
spread eagle with her beagle bared,
he took hold of her hip and shoulder,
gripping her like tarmac, ramming her, grinding her gears.
“Fuck me like an animal Jimmy Beamer,
I wanna feel you from the inside,
this crazy bitch can’t get enough of you.” she sneered.
He drove her home and onward to the finish line,
wreaking havoc on her behind,
slamming it into gear, threatening to drop her transmission.
“Life in the fast lane feels so fine”,
they both chimed as they got off, at the next stop.


Tomorrow I will post another fairly long poem. I am still shocked we wrote it, it is so raw and unlike anything I've written. It has our burlesque he/she friend April Showers in it and plenty of voyeurism and exhibitionism.