OVER 18 0NLY........Fire Extinguisher Man Erotic Stories Series Four by Jimmy Boom Semtex

Fire Extinguisher Man Erotic Stories Series Four by Jimmy Boom Semtex

Fire Extinguisher Man moved the sex toy gently in and out. Tina closed her blue eyes and thought sexy things. She remembered the sixteen year old lad she seduced the week before. Moving her hips, she became horny. The ex fireman eased the glass dildo slightly upwards so it hit her G-spot. Her cries were very erotic.

That's the right spot. This glass dildo is great for hitting the G-spot. And quite a work of art. Who'd of thought, a green glass sex toy? What will they invent next? Fire Extinguisher Man thought as he shafted Tina with the toy.

"That's right babe, enjoy the feeling."

"Oh yes, don't you dare stop," Tina whispered, in-between sighs. She was almost coming.

Dream Man Mind A Series of Dream Images in Words Nick Armbrister

Dream Man Mind

A Series of Dream Images in Words

Nick Armbrister

Oh what a dream vision. A million ghosts screamed at me all at once. Their joint voices a cacophony of sound and resonance that was so loud it was silent. I fell to me knees and wanted to pass out. Their sound was in my head. I started to fragment. It was all too much. They were sad alone mad insecure and more more more!

Round and round their voices and thoughts and feelings echoed like bullets.

I shouted with all my essence: 'BE FUCKING QUIET...'

They listened and silence descended.

'Tell me your story one by one. I have forever. I'm trapped in this place just like you.'

And so they did. They talked to me. One at once. A hundred million anxious angry lonely eager ghosts.

I would be here a while...

Dark Delectable Delicious Destructive - Poems For Goths, Gangsters and Other Mysterious Souls 20 Years of Nick Armbrister's Dark Poems

Dark Delectable Delicious Destructive -

Poems For Goths, Gangsters and Other Mysterious Souls

20 Years of Nick Armbrister's Dark Poems

Varied hours aren’t too bad.

In the cold light of day what stings

the most is knowing that

2 of my old work mates are dead,

out of 5 of us in the early/mid 90s,

on our department.

I’m not sentimental but that does touch

a nerve on the quieter moments.

Simply put,

this is life...

and I don’t agree with it,

no, not at all.

Nightly Events

I'm used to sleeping alone at night in my bed. No one there.

I'm used to being unloved and unwanted at night, feeling the touch of a bullet.

I'm used to being forlorn and forsaken, dead inside during dark hours. Inside and out. I'm used to having no lover to get wet and sweaty with, damn hot eroticism. Not in my bed or life.

I'm used to having no one hold me close when I need to be loved. Leaving me loveless and lifeless.

I'm used to not hearing precious words like, 'Nick, you mean the world to me and fill my life with joy. I'm so in love with you,' whispered under the covers.

I'm used to loneliness that cuts like a knife in the middle of the night. At times I have a blade.

Real darkness like aggravated anxiety making my heart beat irregular.

Debilitating depression floors my mind.

Engulfed by excesses of drinking, poor liver. No replacement for a lover.

I'm used to low quality gals who try to use me, good riddance bitches!

I'm so not used to you being here. Stay or go?

Zoos Comet

Her empty lies mean more than all the halls of silence.

We've been shafted, double penetrations are the worst.

Are they excited at where they'll wake up after committing suicide?

No more shit.

Metallic grey sparks on metal elements realigning.

A case of falling space objects.

In town they complained of the noise.

Damn rock could have flattened them.

The Theran dance goes on.

Cast out by the hand of fate.

Dawn and Dusk (for Anneke van Giersbergen)

In the dawn of silence,

a pattern of words falls exhaustively upon the shattered shards of sulphur,

on this end dawn.

It begins now,

an event of no significance.

Why is it remembered?

Who will be there to remember

if God doesn't exist to create people?

Who's to say anything happened at all?

You?

There was no event.

Animal Shelter

Animal Shelter

The animal shelter is a place of many things with cats,
dogs and so much more.
Of three kittens and their mother abandoned in a box,
now given a home and plenty of love.
People come and see what pets are on offer,
the three tame goats and two large rabbits.
I’ll pick one of the dogs, all big, friendly and nice.
My fierce guard dog to fight and bight you when you try to rob my house.

POTATO PEELER

I want to peel potatoes all day long.

I love peeling potatoes because of their lovely round shape

and their lovely little nodules. I like to feel the earthy texture

of their skin and I love to take a potato peeler to them.

Just to feel the knife bite through their skin and to reveal

the white flesh underneath.

There is such joy to behold in taking a bite

of an unpeeled potato. The feel of the earthy skin

on your tongue and those acidic juices running down your chin.

Such is heaven in my warped little head.

traffic warden poem UP THE BUM

UP THE BUM

we all know it, you all know it, the world thinks they know it.

what do they know? will you tell us or do i need night video

evidence filmed on infra red?

two hot blobs dressed as traffic wardens pumping

each other up the bum.

too shy to get caught in daylight, for their secret will be out,

gaylord kings of the night.

when not giving out tickets, it's up the bum! up the bum!

up the bum! up the bum!

i’ve never seen them at it but i’ve had a parking ticket,

if i offered to give it him up the bum, would he cancel it?

but i’m not that way inclined and i’ll never be a traffic warden.

for up the bum is their secret hobby, warm brothers to a man, send the birds

my way but i’ll laugh at the gayboy traffic wardens who take it up the bum!

so when you see one or two together,

spare a thought for their dirty kinky village people

up the bum actions, up the bum!

FADE INTO FOCUS, FOCUS INTO FADE old poems

CHOICE

Fate brought me into the world, Destiny moulded me, Chance brought me to places and Life made me who I am. I chose to become a certain person, to make decisions that affect me and other people, Sometimes I’m right, sometimes I’m wrong. I know my responsibility in the world, my world, to do my best and not to be one of the crowd. In effect, I have my choice to do it my way and I don’t take this for granted: it is my choice in my life.

VETERAN

Veteran of the ancient war, before my time, tell me, what was it like? I see pictures in the history books, black and white photographs. Did the enemy scream when you bayoneted them and cry for their mothers? Did you see your mates beg for mercy as their blood ran away from shattered legs? Now sixty years later I see you, frail and withered, lost in your memories as you wait to die and to join your comrades. You, a prisoner of old age, never of the enemy, in an old person’s home. You had your years and gave them to your country, boy made man on the battlefield, you live in the past, in battles and of foreign names and people long gone. For my generation’s freedom you fought, now a new world, one you can never know but we are truly grateful and freedom is ours, by an old man’s actions, young soldier in battle, sixty years ago.

BLACK MASS

My mind tumbles to the infinite depths, to rock bottom, the weight of the world crushing my world down. Feelings of being lost and alone at my world’s end. To myself I turn to ask the one question: Why do I feel like this? I have no answer, only silence and despair, bringing me down, a head full of confusing evil thoughts, to end this pain and to be free of this world. Would that be so wrong, to do that, the ultimate sin? I have so much to live for but that is hard to see now with my mind clouded, in deep despair.