Members Popular Post Lonnie Posted October 12, 2021 Members Popular Post Posted October 12, 2021 We feel compelled to reprint the entire thing, just because we never had any idea that W.H. Auden wrote an unbelievably filthy poem about an anonymous blow job. According to the editor’s note, Auden wrote the poem in 1948, and copies were circulated among friends and fans for years, before Ed Sanders printed an unauthorized version in 1965. Auden publicly denied authorship, which is why we can reprint this without permission and with impunity (as does the anthology, which doesn’t include Auden’s poem on its copyright page). Enjoy! The Platonic Blow W. H. Auden It was a spring day, a day for a lay, when the air Smelled like a locker-room, a day to blow or get blown; Returning from lunch I turned my corner and there On a near-by stoop I saw him standing alone. I glanced as I advanced. The clean white T-shirt outlined A forceful torso, the light-blue denims divulged Much. I observed the snug curves where they hugged the behind, I watched the crotch where the cloth intriguingly bulged. Our eyes met. I felt sick. My knees turned weak. I couldn’t move. I didn’t know what to say. In a blur I heard words, myself like a stranger speak “Will you come to my room?” Then a husky voice, “O.K.” I produced some beer and we talked. Like a little boy He told me his story. Present address: next door. Half Polish, half Irish. The youngest. From Illinois. Profession: mechanic. Name: Bud. Age: twenty-four. He put down his glass and stretched his bare arms along The back of my sofa. The afternoon sunlight struck The blond hairs on the wrist near my head. His chin was strong. His mouth sucky. I could hardly believe my luck. And here he was sitting beside me, legs apart. I could bear it no longer. I touched the inside of his thigh. His reply was to move closer. I trembled, my heart Thumped and jumped as my fingers went to his fly. I opened a gap in the flap. I went in there. I sought for a slit in the gripper shorts that had charge Of the basket I asked for. I came to warm flesh then to hair. I went on. I found what I hoped. I groped. It was large. He responded to my fondling in a charming, disarming way: Without a word he unbuckled his belt while I felt. And lolled back, stretching his legs. His pants fell away. Carefully drawing it out, I beheld what I held. The circumcised head was a work of mastercraft With perfectly beveled rim of unusual weight And the friendliest red. Even relaxed, the shaft Was of noble dimensions with the wrinkles that indicate Singular powers of extension. For a second or two, It lay there inert, then suddenly stirred in my hand, Then paused as if frightened or doubtful of what to do. And then with a violent jerk began to expand. By soundless bounds it extended and distended, by quick Great leaps it rose, it flushed, it rushed to its full size. Nearly nine inches long and three inches thick, A royal column, ineffably solemn and wise. I tested its length and strength with a manual squeeze. I bunched my fingers and twirled them about the knob. I stroked it from top to bottom. I got on my knees. I lowered my head. I opened my mouth for the job. But he pushed me gently away. He bent down. He unlaced His shoes. He removed his socks. Stood up. Shed His pants altogether. Muscles in arms and waist Rippled as he whipped his T-shirt over his head. I scanned his tan, enjoyed the contrast of brown Trunk against white shorts taut around small Hips. With a dig and a wriggle he peeled them down. I tore off my clothes. He faced me, smiling. I saw all. The gorgeous organ stood stiffly and straightly out With a slight flare upwards. At each beat of his heart it threw An odd little nod my way. From the slot of the spout Exuded a drop of transparent viscous goo. The lair of hair was fair, the grove of a young man, A tangle of curls and whorls, luxuriant but couth. Except for a spur of golden hairs that fan To the neat navel, the rest of the belly was smooth. Well hung, slung from the fork of the muscular legs, The firm vase of his sperm, like a bulging pear, Cradling its handsome glands, two herculean eggs, Swung as he came towards me, shameless, bare. We aligned mouths. We entwined. All act was clutch, All fact contact, the attack and the interlock Of tongues, the charms of arms. I shook at the touch Of his fresh flesh, I rocked at the shock of his cock. Straddling my legs a little I inserted his divine Person between and closed on it tight as I could. The upright warmth of his belly lay all along mine. Nude, glued together for a minute, we stood. I stroked the lobes of his ears, the back of his head And the broad shoulders. I took bold hold of the compact Globes of his bottom. We tottered. He fell on the bed. Lips parted, eyes closed, he lay there, ripe for the act. Mad to be had, to be felt and smelled. My lips Explored the adorable masculine tits. My eyes Assessed the chest. I caressed the athletic hips And the slim limbs. I approved the grooves of the thighs. I hugged, I snuggled into an armpit. I sniffed The subtle whiff of its tuft. I lapped up the taste Of its hot hollow. My fingers began to drift On a trek of inspection, a leisurely tour of the waist. Downward in narrowing circles they playfully strayed. Encroached on his privates like poachers, approached the prick, But teasingly swerved, retreated from meeting. It betrayed Its pleading need by a pretty imploring kick. “Shall I rim you?” I whispered. He shifted his limbs in assent. Turned on his side and opened his legs, let me pass To the dark parts behind. I kissed as I went The great thick cord that ran back from his balls to his arse. Prying the buttocks aside, I nosed my way in Down the shaggy slopes. I came to the puckered goal. It was quick to my licking. He pressed his crotch to my chin. His thighs squirmed as my tongue wormed in his hole. His sensations yearned for consummation. He untucked His legs and lay panting, hot as a teen-age boy. Naked, enlarged, charged, aching to get sucked, Clawing the sheet, all his pores open to joy. I inspected his erection. I surveyed his parts with a stare From scrotum level. Sighting along the underside Of his cock, I looked through the forest of pubic hair To the range of the chest beyond rising lofty and wide. I admired the texture, the delicate wrinkles and the neat Sutures of the capacious bag. I adored the grace Of the male genitalia. I raised the delicious meat Up to my mouth, brought the face of its hard-on to my face. Slipping my lips round the Byzantine dome of the head, With the tip of my tongue I caressed the sensitive groove. He thrilled to the trill. “That’s lovely!” he hoarsely said. “Go on! Go on!” Very slowly I started to move. Gently, intently, I slid to the massive base Of his tower of power, paused there a moment down In the warm moist thicket, then began to retrace Inch by inch the smooth way to the throbbing crown. Indwelling excitements swelled at delights to come As I descended and ascended those thick distended walls. I grasped his root between left forefinger and thumb And with my right hand tickled his heavy voluminous balls. I plunged with a rhythmical lunge steady and slow, And at every stroke made a corkscrew roll with my tongue. His soul reeled in the feeling. He whimpered “Oh!” As I tongued and squeezed and rolled and tickled and swung. Then I pressed on the spot where the groin is joined to the cock, Slipped a finger into his arse and massaged him from inside. The secret sluices of his juices began to unlock. He melted into what he felt. “O Jesus!” he cried. Waves of immeasurable pleasures mounted his member in quick Spasms. I lay still in the notch of his crotch inhaling his sweat. His ring convulsed round my finger. Into me, rich and thick, His hot spunk spouted in gouts, spurted in jet after jet. splinter1949, PeterRS, tm_nyc and 6 others 8 1 Quote
Members Pete1111 Posted October 13, 2021 Members Posted October 13, 2021 Would love to hear Patrick Stewart read that poem. ❤️ Lonnie and TotallyOz 1 1 Quote
PeterRS Posted October 13, 2021 Posted October 13, 2021 I suppose we tend to place most great writers, poets, composers and others who have handed down to us works of great beauty on a kind of pedestal. We think of them more for their traditional works than themselves as people and conveniently forget about any less savoury works they may have penned. Anyone who has seen the play or the movie "Amadeus" by Peter Schaffer will know that our ideal of Mozart as a precious, intelligent and delicate composer of some of the most divine and gorgeous music ever written is quite wrong. He was a man with youthful desires and frequently mixed with common folk. Amongst the works he has left for posterity is a series of six pornographic canons (a canon being a work where a short melody will eventually be repeated by a series of other voices). The best known is this one which best translates as "Lick my Ass". A similar one starts "Lick My Ass Nicely, Lick it Nice and Clean". In another, the last four lines in the expurgated edition are "Very gently, sleep resting well, Good night! Have sweet dreams, Until the morning breaks!" The text that Mozart wrote is actually "Good night, good night, Shit in your bed and make it burst; Good night, sleep tight, And stick your ass to your mouth." More scatalogical and certainly not outright pornographic as is Auden's poem, but then the times were very different. When then Prime Minister Margaret Thatcher saw "Amadeus" at the National Theatre, she was not happy at its depiction of Mozart. She said to the director. Peter Hall, "In her best headmistress style, she gave me a severe wigging for putting on a play that depicted Mozart as a scatological imp with a love of four-letter words. It was inconceivable, she said, that a man who wrote such exquisite and elegant music could be so foul-mouthed. I said that Mozart's letters proved he was just that: he had an extraordinarily infantile sense of humour ... "I don't think you heard what I said", replied the Prime Minister. "He couldn't have been like that". That was the end of any discussion. Lonnie, TotallyOz and Ruthrieston 3 Quote
faranglaw Posted October 13, 2021 Posted October 13, 2021 “And the friendliest red.” LOL Lonnie 1 Quote
Members Lonnie Posted October 30, 2021 Author Members Posted October 30, 2021 On 10/12/2021 at 3:40 PM, Lonnie said: Naked, enlarged, charged, aching to get sucked, Oh My..I'm getting the vapors. Quote
Members Lonnie Posted May 26, 2022 Author Members Posted May 26, 2022 On 10/12/2021 at 3:40 PM, Lonnie said: By soundless bounds it extended and distended, by quick Great leaps it rose, it flushed, it rushed to its full size. Nearly nine inches long and three inches thick, A royal column, ineffably solemn and wise. Ruthrieston 1 Quote