“Why don’t you leave your boots on?”

She said, as I walked through the door,

“There’s nothing to spoil in the kitchen;

There’s nothing to spoil on the floor”.

And later on in that evening

As I kissed her softly I said,

“Why don’t you leave your boots on?

There’s nothing to spoil on the bed”

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(Something new for the Erotic Poetry Night at Malton Literature Festival)

“What is the bidding?”

“The bidding is thine” she said.

He spoke and she took position,

Before him, in shadow.

“What is the bidding?”

“The bidding is thine” she said.

He held her hips.

He clicked his tongue softly in her ear,

Before tracing the line of her neck with it.

...

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One I've done for the Erotic Poetry Night of YLF (18-28 March)

Pretty, painted, piggy toes peep shyly through their shoe;

But discreetly I must keep my secret stare from you.

So slyly with more subtlety, a better view to gain,

I turn to your reflection in the window pane.

This private peepshow I enjoy, new thoughts to feel and find

And taste them so indulgent...

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