a poem by Dan Standing

Fragile form, tiny feet,
Walking softly on my sheet.
She thinks I sleep, I feign a snore,
How on Earth could I ignore
The pixie perched upon my shaft,
Her body bare and cold from draft.

On my back I lie in bed,
Pillow propped beneath my head.
Thin sheet is all that is between us,
As she stands upon my penis.
Her rear is facing at my eyes,
A small wet slit I see between her thighs.

She pauses there atop my crotch,
As my arousal goes up a notch.
She balances with grace and strength,
As I harden to full girth and length.
She never gives my face a glance,
As she lays herself along my lance.

Gossamer wings; they flit and quake,
How could she not know that I’m awake?
But nonetheless I do not move,
As she grinds against me her tiny groove.
Matchstick arms slide up and down,
While her hands grip at my covered crown.

I’m sure it comes to no surprise,
That I befell the fate of many guys.
Down fabric and skin I sense the splash,
As my body accepts the erotic crash.
I feel her shift and rise to knees,
I’m sure her face did not look pleased.

At first I think she’ll take quick flight,
Back into the dark of this cold night.
But then her hands begin to glow,
My shrinking stops, and starts to grow!
Hard again without the need for resting,
Her legs and breasts restart their caressing.

I stare and watch her rub and moan,
Then she makes a different groan.
Her back so arches, as toes do curl,
Gasping with the pleasures of a girl.
She rests a moment in afterglow,
Then quickly flies out my wide window.

Months have past since she left my bed,
My hopes of another tryst are now long dead.
But she left behind a lasting gift,
A part of me that’s still quite stiff.
Now many women I have endless satisfied,
As I have yet to go soft, no matter how hard I’ve tried!