Is It Poetry
Every 'Woman' Who Does This 'shudders' - Poem by Is It Poetry
She was vaguely aware
of some soft music on the radio
and the occasional sounds of someone
moving around in and out of the room.
Her head was spinning slightly.
From the wine.
Helplessly hot and excited.
He has this amazing ability to get into your mind
and almost 'play' you like a 'Woman's' musical instrument.
Trying to get up but not wanting to move....
Understood your every need.. your every feeling.
And the amazing ability to get deep inside of your mind.
Deciding that the best thing,
was just to close her eyes and relax.
She trusted him and watched as he,
pushed a white enameled cart that looked like
some kind of hospital equipment.
It had a 4-foot rod mounted on the side and hanging from it was a large red rubber bag,
bulging as if it held a gallon of water.
It was so full that the top was slightly brimming over
with some kind of white suds.
It had a piece of tubing extending from it
that was it's self connected
to a large red rubber tube about 3 feet long
with a small slit on the side of the tip.
Every 'Woman' who saw this
shuttered as they realized
this was a hospital system
for giving large volume enemas to patients.
The thick soapy water will help the colon tube to pass
more easily up into your tummy.' Said, he.
'Why do you have to control me so completely? ...
You won't even let me keep control of my bodily functions! ',
Secretly melting...anticipation building.
Whatever the cause,
she only knew that she was helplessly in love with this man and she was equally sure that he loved her unconditionally.
OH... AH.H.... OH.. arrrgggggghhhhhhhh..........'
feeling the blast of thick fluid jet deep into her.
and this was the one thing
that could cause her to totally lose control of her mind.
A prisoner of love.
And she was sure that Poetry would keep her that way...
for the rest of her life.
Comments about Every 'Woman' Who Does This 'shudders' by Is It Poetry
Read this poem in other languages
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Still I Rise
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Edgar Allan Poe
Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening
I Do Not Love You Except Because I Love You