Selfish Woman

A selfish woman does not dress for me

She doesn’t bathe, dance, or adorn herself with her lover in mind

Going about her day conceitedly

Not worried about the desires of another


She refuses the seductive garments

Her body never carries a new fragrance

The movement of her silhouette is limp, awkward, and carries no grace

She has never been lithe


If her appearance is refined it is only for her vanity

And not for my pleasure

The pleasures of the flesh are held selfishly in clenched fists

An eternal prude, a diminutive unhappy soul, repulsing the advance growing every more repulsive


A selfish woman does not deserve to be loved

She deserves to be used

Hardly worthy of any attention foisted on her

Like any self indulgent creature


I cast her aside for a better lover

For a girl with a generous spirit

Whose mind is occupied with my comfort and pleasure

Sensually moving for my delighted soul


Dripping with beaded strings and oil

Smelling of something new and mysterious

Eyes alight with youthful mirth and seductive glee

Harkening for the chase as much for the culmination


Teasing with the intent to please rather than any insecure coyness

Clothes so exciting and revealing

Sexual in their nature and execution

Showering the room in sex

In red and soft fabric, about the bed and around her shoulders

In delicious tastes and smells, her flesh, her fruit alluring

In soft seductive noises, her cooing, sexual tones


Taking my unbridled passion and submitting to my enflamed desire

Smiling at the height of my ecstasy

Competing to out amplify my sounds of pleasure


This is a woman worthy of devotion

Of love

Of something

Of everything

The picture of the selfless being

The image in the pool I paw at

Vainly trying to drink her in

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