I want to be bent over the knee of
a man with big hands and spanked,
bare-assed, as he tells me I’m a bad girl.
I want to be restrained, grasping hands bound
to an iron bed frame, unable to control or
interfere with the pleasure inflicted upon me.
I want my panties pulled aside,
a stiff cock slipped inside, the cotton hem
chafing against the soft shaft not unpleasantly.
I want to be eaten out without
the obligation, the expectation,
I want to pin a man down by his hairy wrists
and grind on him through his Wranglers
‘til a wet spot forms in the denim.
I want to seduce the women who
look at me stutteringly, intimidated
by what they perceive to be the upperhand.
I want to be infantilized by an older man
who calls me his “good girl” in caressive tones
as he slowly fucks me in missionary.
I want to be gang-banged by a posse of young men
who suckle my supple flesh and fill every orifice
and make me come too many times to count
as their gasping moaning grunting disbelief
ignites my sense of urgency.
I want to be examined and probed and fucked
by my hot primary care physician, the sanitary paper
crinkling under my ass as we muffle our moans.
I want him to leave his wife and become obsessed
with me, professing his devotion with the certainty
of a madman, wedding band melting off his finger.
I want to lounge in a white bed, French doors blown open
by a sea breeze, lost in the pages of a paperback novel
as my prowling, horny, dominant daddy licks almond butter
from my pussy until I come loud enough to drown out
the ocean waves crashing at our feet.
I want to live
for the erotic joy
of indulging that part of me
I want to get off on
of having my pick and breaking
from scarcity mentality,
opening up to a world of
I want privacy
from the prying eyes
of family and friends
as I explore who I am.
Britt Warner is an artist, writer, and musician from Los Angeles, CA. She is currently working on her first book of poetry.