The Plea

An Exercise in Vulgarity

I was chat­ting in Voodoo Chat when my friend Andi decided to leave the com­puter for a bit. But before she left, she warned her fel­low chat­ters to “not molest me while I’m gone.” I assured her that no one will do such a thing, but I might end up recit­ing a vul­gar poem about her breasts. She then pro­ceeded to chal­lenge me to come up with some­thing by the time she returned.

And I did.

Presenting The Plea, two ver­sions of it. First, the dynamic, raw original:

The Plea

I dream with lurid inter­est
Of those bounc­ing pair
Beneath the fab­ric stretched taut.

A spit­tle of drool by my lips,
Licked away by an eager tongue,
A tongue eager for a taste
Of one’s essence so suc­cu­lent and fresh.

A gasp escapes my trem­bling lips
As I am engulfed by a phan­tasm of the mind,
A fan­tasy of your ten­der teat
Parting my eager lips.

Until I scream out
In the dark of the night,
With a want­ing plea,
“Oh, Treacherous Goddess!
Fill my hun­gry mouth
With your warmth,
Your creamy spirit!”

And then the ver­sion in Shakespearean son­net form:

“The Plea”

I dream with lurid inter­est of those
Bouncing pair beneath the fab­ric stretched taut.
By my lips, a spit­tle of drool vis­cose,
Licked away by eager tongue, but it’s naught;
For the tongue’s eager for a mouth­ful taste,
Of one’s essence so suc­cu­lent and fresh.
Gasp escapes my trem­bling lips, as I faced
A phan­tasm of the mind and the flesh;
A fan­tasy of your sweet, ten­der teat
Parting my eager lips ’til I scream out,
In the dark of night, with a plea replete
With want and desire, a des­per­ate shout!
“Oh, Wicked Goddess! Fill my hun­gry mouth
With your creamy spirit and end my drought!”