More vixen than you (a poem)

This person is everywhere if we look for it.


You’d see that a large part of her identity
Is wrapped up in her perceptions of her sexuality
Sex kitten, vamp, mistress is how she identifies
Any man would want to win her for their willing prize
Nervous young virgins are her taste in boys
Young and eager and and willing to be just her toys
Her method in bed is to show how she likes it
Their relief at getting fucked is part of her might
They are told how to use their tongue, mouth and fingers
To take it slow, erotic, to pleasure, to linger
On her and then when she explodes in delight
They have permission to fuck her by her given right
She’s not to keen on giving pleasure back
She gets quite bored when she’s not on her back
Boys that are new to sex they don’t realise
There is more to sex that pleasing what’s in her thighs
The Rocky horror show makes her feel really naughty
She identifies with Janet – though she’s now pushing 40
She fantasizes of that house of a sex craved hot men
Who would dress up and fuck her, she’d be quite keen
The thing she doesn’t get is she’s really vanilla
She likes straight boring sex, where the boys can just fill her
There is one more thing she wants to be thought to be
It’s that she’s exciting and sexy and up for a spree
She looks at girls breasts and finds them quite nice
She says it makes her bisexual (it gives her a vice)

The sexual ingenue who is up for a try
Despite not really liking woman she wants to be bi
She picked up a girl once after months of flirting
She wanted a go and she was done with skirting
In the bed she lay down as she always does
The dark haired young thing used her mouth, fingers, love
The act was really the same as it was with the boys
She enjoyed it and proved it by making lots of noise
Then brunette finished her and moved in for a kiss
Eyes expectant and shining, looking for some bliss
But she thought this was it, there was no more for her
Pleasure for someone else was not her usual score
Uneasy, she moved her mouth down that soft skin
At the back of her mind she was conscious of sin
What she wanted to have, she’d already got
Even though she felt sad that she’d missed out on cock
She forced her face down and kissed the girls’ thigh
Then stopped and rolled off and lay, face away, beside
Thank you, she said, that was really a treat
Wait, you’re kidding that was it, you’re not going to sleep?
She closed her eyes and gave a small snore
And smiled when she heard the slamming of the door
She’d gotten sex with a woman, was now officially bi
She could go to queer parties and not have to try
One off the list of things she’d decided to do
That would make her more sexy, more vixen than you
She slept the deep sleep of the sated and pleased
Her conscience slept with her, didn’t utter a peep.

More vixen than you (a poem)

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