Cuckold in the Nest

Gagging on his work tie,
Metal cutting wrists that I can’t see,
Knees raw crimson on the carpet.

He stands over me,
Flexed pectorals weeping,
Soft breath with each stroke.

My precious one spread-eagled
Over fresh sheets, and pining
For he who is never I.

The looming intruder watches me
Even as he bestrides her,
His prominent edifice seeking to defile.

His gloating eyes, her gratuitous cries,
Ritual humiliation in their rhythmic hustle,
And it shows.

It shows in my obdurate loins,
It shows in dripping brow,
Even as she clings to him.

Their rapture becomes my own,
My strangled grunts soon begging
Don’t stop just yet.



© Velma Velvet and affairsofthemindpoetry, 2018