05-06-2020, 12:50 AM
I wrote this a couple years ago, using Edgar Allan Poe's "The Raven" as a template. Very naughty, but at least it's musical.
Once, upon an evening splendid, as another drink I blended
With the mint and sweets intended to renew my bourbon straight,
With the julep fit to guzzle, suddenly I felt a nuzzle
From the soft, insistent muzzle of my hound, who could not wait
One more second for his dinner, one more moment for his fete.
“Well, “I muttered, “That’s just great.”
Truly, I had not forgotten my companion I’d spoiled rotten,
During dinner, finished not an hour ago, I’d shared my plate.
Nonetheless, he sat contritely, eyes upon me shining brightly,
Trying not to beg, politely asking me to contemplate
Feeding him. I smiled down, saying, “Would you like more from my plate?”
He replied, “That would be great.”
His reply was most disarming, its significance alarming,
Yet I found it oddly charming hearing him so clearly state
His desires, not quite pleading, but with simple grace proceeding
To set forth his need for feeding, for the kibble that he ate,
For the meaty, tasty, and expensive kibble that he ate.
“Pour it for me.”, “Will do.”, “Great.”
Kibble poured, he stood there, chewing, as I knelt astonished, viewing
With new eyes my hound, mind brewing, as my thoughts would not abate.
Had my habits caused my madness? Would my loved ones feel some sadness?
As I fell, in purest gladness, into my demented state?
Then, he paused, my hound, and walked toward me with an eager gait.
“Hey, you know what would be great?”
At my crotch he started pawing. “Toby!”, I exclaimed withdrawing,
Pulling back, and then guffawing, “Stop that, now, get in your crate!”
“Ruff! It’s what I do to Ernie.”, he rejoined, like an attorney
To defend his furtive journey for his paw to infiltrate,
To disrobe me and molest me, that his paw might infiltrate.
“Touch my sheath, and I’ll feel great.”
As he spoke, his sheath was growing, til his bright pink tip was showing,
Shining in the light and glowing with the need to copulate.
So, I started lightly stroking at the base whence it was poking,
And from out the tip provoking pre to drip and lubricate
All along the shaft, the dripping precum fit to lubricate.
“Oh,” my hound moaned, “That feels great.”
“Good,” he sighed to me, “Now, lick it.” Though to you it might seem sick, it
Felt to me like just the ticket, making him ejaculate.
Knowing I would be lambasted, even so, no time I wasted
As I used my tongue and tasted every inch, and felt a spate,
Tasted copper, salt, and water on my tongue, in such a spate.
“God, “he muttered, “That felt great.”
He had shot off like a mortar, and I wished the range was shorter,
As he’d left a stain of quarter size upon my chest. Irate,
I demanded that he swallow up his mess, which he did follow
Though the rage I feigned was hollow. I was in a sorry state,
Tired, drunk, confused, and horny, all in all a sorry state.
“Time for bed. But, that felt great.”
Later, as I lay there napping, suddenly I felt a tapping
At my legs, where lay my strapping Toby, playful and sedate.
“What is it you want?”, I mumbled, my disjointed thoughts still jumbled
As my hound walked up and stumbled on my lap, and sealed my fate,
Crossed the bed and climbed upon my lap, an act that sealed my fate.
“Now, I’ll make sure you feel great.”
“What?”, I groaned. “We’ve gotta do it.”, he replied. I had no clue it
Meant something, although I knew it promised I would be up late.
“What?”, I asked, “You need the potty? Or do I?”, my thoughts still spotty.
“No, I want us to be naughty. I would like for us to mate.
I would like for you to stick it in me and for us to mate.
That would make us both feel great.”
Pondering my hound’s suggestion to commit this deep transgression
Which I had begun to question, I began to masturbate
To this insight on his freeness, his direct and simple keenness,
Stroking my erectile penis, far too weak to hesitate,
Taking his proposal to my heart, I could not hesitate.
“Yes,” I said, “that would feel great.”
As he turned from me, his salmon butt I closely could examine,
Pulsing, calling me to ram inside of him, to dominate.
Lift me, pull me up and down. Like this.”, he begged, and went to town,
Enveloping in pink and brown my cock, and pressing with his weight,
Caressing it in velvet, moving up and down, with all his weight.
“Mmm…”, I shuddered, “This feels great.”
There, for minutes, he sat humping onto me, my heart still thumping
Blood into the organ pumping in him at a steady rate.
As his body quaked and quivered, every muscle shook and shivered,
As my testicles delivered semen and ejaculate,
As my balls erupted with my fresh and hot ejaculate,
At my climax, I felt great.
Now, my lust was dissipated. By my hound, it had been sated,
An experience I rated highly, one I’d call first rate.
Toby turned, his face now grinning with a look of purest winning
As he sat atop me, pinning me to keep me in that state,
Keep me in that mortifying, awkward, vulnerable state.
“You inside me felt so great.”
He climbed off, my dick still dripping from my orgasm, and slipping
Easily from him, then whipping down and starting to deflate.
He stayed close, tail lifted, baring all to me, which left me staring
At his derriere, him daring me to lick and clean my slate,
Taunting me to do as he had done for me and clean my slate.
“Clean me, would you?” “Yes, sir.” Great.
Though I first felt cowed and harried, soon enough my tongue was buried
In his sphincter, tasting varied tastes that made me salivate,
Passion overrode decorum as I lapped at our santorum,
Satisfied I could adore him so, my hound, my friend, my mate,
He who’d chosen me and hounded me, so he could be my mate,
Showing love for him felt great.
Cleaning done, he turned and cuddled with me, leaving me befuddled,
Former boundaries left muddled with the love we would create.
Though unclear on its creation, nonetheless I felt elation
At the forged-by-fornication bond that we would germinate,
At the interspecies delectations we would germinate.
Thenceforth, we would both feel great.
And my lover, eyelids flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting
On my bed, and luck-permitting, never will we vacillate
In our love, for I am beaming with delight, as if I’m dreaming
Of a heaven that is teeming with such joys I can’t debate,
With such wonders placed upon the earth that I will not debate.
I cannot; they feel too great.
