Flick of my wrist

Won’t you watch over me,
To return me to sleep,
For only this do I plead,
Only then will I be free.

Now my eyes are aching,
Its difficult to breathe,
My ears are ringing,
Peaceful bliss I need.

Yet I lie here in vain,
Without a single pain,
On the verge of insane,
Night and night again.

I’m searching for a bliss,
Calm motion of your kiss,
But I put an end to this,
With a flick of my wrist,

My fingers pass on by,
Caressing your silky thigh,
I sense your subtle sigh,
As passion bursts with desire.

I caress your subtle waist,
Before I carefully baste,
Sipping nectar from your space,
How I adore your sleepy taste.

Soon I am fully engorged,
My blood so thick and warm,
So I enter where you pour,
Knuckles sliding forever more.

As you emerge from your dream,
My body enters through your seam,
Sending your senses fleeing,
With tiny shocks through your being.

Our hips touch together now,
As I thrust deep like a plow,
To a motion you know how,
That brings you to a magic shower.

Clenching tight upon my girth,
Toes arching toward the earth,
I penetrate goddesses purse,
With a final sudden burst.

As you wash over me,
Returning me to sleep,
Mingling with my love seed,
Finally setting my soul free.

(C) 2014 PJ Bayliss

How Could I forget

How could I ever,
Begin to forget,
Your beautiful smile,
And black satin fishnets.
I will always remember,
From the day we first met,
‘Till the night we made love,
And your acceptance as my pet.
In your black leather tights,
Studded collar around neck,
With your spiked high heels,
Corset lace framing your back.
So eager to please,
While accepting my hand,
As I mercifully teased,
Kneeling where I now stand.
The scented beauty of your lust,
I consume it with a thrill,
Your pleasure zones contract,
Beckoning me to drill.
With your head bowed down,
Toward my anchored feet,
I apply my first mark,
Upon your taught seat.
With a pleasurable moan,
Writhing in such bliss,
The pain now resides,
From my serpents kiss.
Stainless chain becomes taut,
As you wince toward the floor,
Cowering within my shadow,
Yet your nectar now pours.
Deep down inside,
Like a river of tears,
Smouldering embers,
Burn away any fears.
Another kiss from the whip,
Tickles down your firm thigh,
Resolution bedding in,
With your ecstatic sigh.
The chain shortens up,
You look up from the earth,
In awe you now sigh,
My unleashed girth.
Pulsating pleasure,
Engraved with thick veins,
I slide past your moist lips,
The depth is insane.
The taste of my flesh,
Work it slowly my pet,
As I decide what to do,
With your body next.
I grace the moist warmth,
Of your sensual mouth,
While I  yearn to devour,
Sacred place further south.
Brushing your hair,
Revealing your eyes,
I admire your gaze,
From between my thighs.
With a simple glance,
 I reveal what you know,
The time has now come,
To engage your soul from below.
Your zipped leather pants,
Quickly peel off like new skin,
Before I prepare your body,
For such lust engorged sin.
Testing the waters,
I press just a few,
Fingers deep inside,
The inner realm of you.
Your ripe to the touch,
So moist inside,
I languish within,
Your beautiful hide.
With a brief metallic clip,
I secure your posture collar,
To maintain your restraint,
and muffle any hollar.
With your saliva coating,
My erection so thick,
I spread you apart,
To enter you quick.
Firm, hard, and fast,
As you desire it so,
Working your goddess,
‘Till she doeth flow.
As I slide veraciously,
Firmly to and deeper fro,
Goddess sparking frenzy,
Unsure to come, or go.
My presence fulfils you,
Like a chemical reaction,
While your stomach contracts,
Upon the verge of spasm.
Our bodies so tight,
With every lust filled beat,
Edging ever so close,
Splayed upon my hot meat.
At this pace we will last,
For several hours,
Or until our bodies melt,
Into carnal showers.
As the surge of desire,
Nearly drives you insane,
While I pull you closer still,
Empaled upon my love vein.
But you know the time is not,
For your finish quite yet,
 For upon my command,
You shall come my pet.
Upon my command,
You will bend and bow,
Hollar and cry,
And come right now.
(c) 2014 PJ Bayliss

Pour me a river

Slowly I now open,
My tired and weary eyes,
Discovering your presence,
Subdued and tied.
Your wrists bound tight,
Ankles pulled apart,
A criss-cross pattern,
Protecting your heart.
Your satin nightie,
So taught under strain,
Eyes tearing up,
In lust without pain.
As I flex my wrist,
Your arms lurch forward,
As I own every motion,
Controlled by a cord.
Exposing your body,
To my every desire,
This submission you provide,
Becomes fuel to my fire.
You whimper some words,
That tempt my ear,
“Fuck me hard Sir,
Take me now, right here.”
With a smirk I respond,
With a jerk of the rope,
Spreading you apart,
Exposing your hope.
“Oh baby won’t you,
Wait there for me?
Upon the crisp edge,
Of pure ecstasy?”
My reply leaves you short,
Of life-filling breath,
As I whisper once again,
At the nape of your neck.
“Pour me a river,
In amber not gold,
Be my little angel,
And do as you’re told”
(c) 2014 PJ Bayliss
Hope you enjoyed this so far – it’s a bit of a work-in-progress which I think could be drawn out a bit longer… ;)



By PJ Bayliss


The sweeper was there in the club that day,
he donated his time and gave us a smile,
but I was busy and could not afford to stay,
the next day he dropped after running a mile.
The red-nosed gentleman always said hi,
regardless of what went on in his life,
eager to hear how my day had gone by,
I heard of his death by his gracious wife.
We drove down the road, cursed at the car,
casually labelling the stranger a jerk,
even with doctors attending right there,
the stranger remained, never made it to work.
My Grandfather always seemed grumpy & mean,
but strong willed and always merry with beer,
until one afternoon he coughed up his spleen,
my last words had made my feelings quite clear.
The dust barely settles as he falls on foreign soil,
the uniformed child with his kids at home,
a journalist captures the moment blood spoils,
his kids learn when online they roam.
I sit in my bunker and peer through my eyes,
calmly putting everything to the test,
hiding from this world and my untimely demise,
 running from the night when I don’t rest.
My existence lives in a corridor of time,
rolling messages and pages of words,
caring for lives who are not mine,
content with an ending if I am heard.

‎- Mon Ami


(C) 2012 PJ Bayliss