Warning: the following poem contains explicit language and sexual situations. Reader discretion is advised.

“Pippin Takes It All” 

© Jane Bled 2017

When I stumbled across them —
The secret lovers in flagrante delicto —
I surrendered to my inner pervert.

It’s not like you (the audience)
Are any different.
I had y’all pegged from the first
(In)discreetly peeping
On their nudity,
Watching them fuck
Atop pig-piles of green:
Intimate money-sex games;
Self-love slot machines.

At an undisclosed address,
He pounded Pippin’s ass into the mattress,
Muffling moans across
Million-dollar-insured hands
Making invisible plans for
A new pair to screw;
Choosing the location of
His next tattoo.

Dildos replaced by dollar signs:
Who needs dick
When you can have bling-bling?
Surely not The Next Big Thing!
He’s got an ass like two peaches
Without the fuzz
(Best buds
Natural buzz).

Oh, yeah!
I’m so down with that.

Grabbin’ my extra-large
Drop-lap popcorn bag
Fap, fap, fap!
Hard-blow French horns
Can’t miss a moment
Of this Warhol art porn.
As long as I ain’t
Catching feels,
I’m feelin’ myself —
First-class ticket to Hell.
Where the landing strip ends,
The (tainted) entrance begins
Their label:
“Just friends”


boot and tv

Boot and tv © Dan Talson | File ID: 4346990 | Dreamstime Stock Photos

TMI Tidbit: During the roaring 20’s (my singledom), I used to tell people my former best friend and I were “just friends” — flat-out lie to save face. Meanwhile we’d late-night-rut on the floor of her bedroom while her mom was in the next room. Oh, the scandal! *sarcasm*

I never promised I’d behave. 😉