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helena alexis Sep 2017
i hear your voice
in my dreams
as i touch myself

i can feel your hands
all over my body
so rough and hard

i close my eyes as
my lips part letting
out a soft moan

my hands wander to
the waistband of my
******* as they inch
lower and lower

if only these dreams
became a reality
had yet another ****** dream about the boy I like and it just so happens that I work w him tomorrow
Vale Luna Jul 2017
I was born with ovaries for a brain
And a cavity for thought
The predisposition
To put my hand down my pants
At the age of seven
But with a good berating
From my unconditionally loving mother
The putrid seed was recognized
Its stem ripped from my mind
Torn from my *******
Too late
Obviously
Too oblivious
To notice that the roots still tangled around me
Its vines growing up into my ******
The **** that encapsulated my mentality
So the birds and the bees were my friends
At the age of nine
And that cute boy across the playground
Was cuter when I envisioned him naked
Only a mere three years later
And my susceptibility
Ignited the sight of cybersex
The capital ***
Or more commonly known as *******
But when my parents soon discovered
The poisonous vines of dependency
The toxic ivy of addiction
It was forced to an abrupt halt
Too late
Obviously
Too oblivious
To notice the compulsive *******
That kicked in with the involuntary lust
For a pillow to trust under my hips
Before the age of fourteen
Securing the hypersexuality
So that the hot girl in the hallway
Was hotter when I envisioned her naked
And hotter than the boy next to her
So the bisexuality
Tormented my already demented desires
By the age of sixteen
Simply because
I was born with ovaries for a brain
And a cavity for thought.
David Cunha Jun 2017
The fresh paint leaks
It is not a painting
Naked in bed.
Man is nature, raw and satisfied.
Àŧùl Jun 2017
It's child abuse in the Afghani style,
Men get hold of little boys to play,
They fiddle with the kids' flies,
Dig their fingers deep inside,
Get hold of the miniature tools,
Twiddle them till they just urinate.

And then the kids are addicted,
They keep repeating it by themselves,
It is not exclusive to the Afghanis,
Even some Indians often do it,
I know because even I was a victim.

Now I protect every other kid.
Male ******* is a lot of time wasted.
And it's very addictive if exposed to at a very young age.
I was hardly aged 10 at that time.

My HP Poem #1585
©Atul Kaushal
Tristan Taylor May 2017
One picture
One night
One image
It gets me excited
It makes my fire ignite
You and me
Not your man
**** him
Even if for one night, I picture sweet ***** romance
I want you
I need you
You turn me on more and more
Faster
Faster
To that one image
As I beat it off harder
And harder
To that picture
And then...

Ughhhhhh.
I love you.
You’re so ****.

Sweet ecstasy.
And then... I ask myself,
What did I just do?
A poem about the dilemmas about *******, from the male viewpoint.
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