Eastern Avenue Arcade
I’m back in my car,
My mouth smiling but sore
the way your mouth feels after sucking seven cocks in the last hour
Lunch time, 12 to 1
Face-fuck aftermath, back of the throat tenderness
Sore and edgy
They still fill my nostrils
Sweat and pubic must, musk, and Irish Spring
My sore soft palate will remind me
Until I’m out of Oklahoma
Of every cock that pushed against it
That enjoyed my sweet and slick submission
So free to take in that darkened, roadside, den
Oklahoma City
Eastern Avenue Arcade
It takes a while
For your eyes to adjust
Pulling clean and circumcised cocks from unbuckled blue jeans
Silky hard and throbbing shafts from gym shorts
Swirling my salvation tongue over the tip
Then suckling like a pup
Retired Air Force Non-Com’s and
Construction foremen in their 60’s
Oil field tool salesmen
Use my willing mouth, anonymous
Imagining Goddess forms,
their wives or long-lost loves
and other more disturbing deviations
that one that kept calling me “his boy”
Imagining all sweet release
They grind my forehead into soft and furry bellies
Imagining they were anywhere
But Oklahoma
Horror Sleaze Trash 