Homobear Erotic Poetry, Installment #1
One of my favorite fucking erotic poems in the world. If you aren't "into" poetry, for Christ's sake, don't let the line breaks scare you off. Take a breath and dive in, pretend it's prose on a very thin piece of paper. You might be very pleasantly surprised.
Happy National Poetry Month!
____________________________________________________________________
The Moving Man
by Edward Field
He was a burly, curly-blonde ape of a man
who had a moving van
and a bunch of young helpers he paid by the job.
He treated those boys like a harem,
picking one for his pleasure when he wanted.
He had wrestled them all to defeat
for when they fell under his weight
with that huge body on them
they went dreamy as desire took them.
Having him for an example, they were a rowdy gang,
hanging around the office at the front of the garage,
waiting for a job to be called in.
They kept wrestling and grabbing at each other
with an eye cocked for the boss's approval,
half-teasing him with their slim bodies,
muscled from work.
The van stood behind in the shadows
with its tailgate down, empty,
except for the quilts they wrapped furniture in,
lying in a heap.
In the idleness of the afternoon
the boss would start horsing around with a boy,
perhaps one who had been especially fresh
and chasing him through the garage
force him right up the tailgate into the van.
There they fell rolling on the quilts
until the man, pinning him with his chest,
pulled down the boy's pants -
his own were always open.
Large hand roved down naked belly
to the clutch of hair and hard-standing prick,
with balls a handful,
and the boy yelped, but had to stay.
His wrestler arms tamed that young body like an animal:
Holding him prisoner, he forced him over,
his cock probing the backs of his thighs,
the cheeks of his ass. One hand on a breast
fingered the nipple, the other arm
pulled him closer below
with a hot, demanding push.
He breathed hard on the plum of a cheek,
and bit at the boy's neck,
his stubble scratching as he growled in the boy's ear,
teaching him pleasure.
Now he held in his arms the whole boy,
his fat prick nosing between those round tight cheeks,
until the boy, completely submerged in that loving bulk of a man,
relaxed with a moan and opened,
and the moving man moved his prick all the way in,
taking his sweet time.
-- from The Badboy Book of Erotic Poetry, ed. by David Laurents (Masquerade Books, 1995)