Excerpt for A Daily Dose of Kink errr Horniness: Because We Need to Be Reminded to be Naughty, at least Once a Day by , available in its entirety at Smashwords

This page may contain adult content. If you are under age 18, or you arrived by accident, please do not read further.

A Daily Dose of

Kink errr Horniness


J. Ravageux


Copyright © 2017 J Ravageux

Smashwords ISBN: 9781370809004


All rights reserved.

Thank you for buying an authorized copy of this book and for complying with copyright laws by not reproducing, scanning or distributing any part of it in any form without permission.

All persons portrayed in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons, natural and/or juridical, living or otherwise, or actual events is purely coincidental.

For comments and suggestions, please email


These poems are excerpts from the main book:

Exclusively distributed and available at Amazon

I do not like the eggs to be sunny side up

Or scrambled

Or beaten.

I want it all, raw and unshaven so that

I can do lots of naughty things with them

Using various parts of my hands

Distinct parts of my mouth

Unusual parts of my body.

You have been very naughty O’ neighbor

For showing me much skin while you are mowing your lawn (and your wife)

Wearing cycling shorts in the heat of the sun

Hanging your shirt on your firm, toned shoulders

Uncovering secrets why your wife is happily satisfied.

Her fingers begin to move, in a way a maiden is trying to take off the petal of a delicate flower using one hand. The touch is soft, but it tickles what it needs to reach, those small prickles that plays on the sensitivity of my muscle. In no time, I am hard. Just by her fingers, I am hard.

Forgive me Father for I have sinned.

When I attended the mass, and saw you in your pre-mass clothing.

Your shirt is so tight that

I thought of touching it,

Feeling it, tasting it.

And felt unfair to God to tempt you from your duties.

Did you start the year with a


Clothes on the floor carelessly

Taken off to coincide with

The shedding of the sins of the previous year.

While on a squeaky bed

Maliciously bending a sane will

with unusual positions

Flexibly tried, tested and tried again.

Why did you stop?

When we are swimming in pleasure.





Why did you stop?

When our eyes are white in delirium.





Why did you stop?

When we are about to finish.

Eyes closed.

Heavy breathing.



Why, why did you stop?

I do not want the buns to be soft

Or toasted

Or freshly packed.

I want it exposed from your jockeys after

your exercises.

Where your sweat and scent

Fills the plump and tightness and

Fills the hands that grope them.

Forgive me Father for I have sinned.

When I saw you in the community gym playing balls with the homeless

Your biceps so hard that

I thought of touching it,

Feeling it, tasting it?

But felt I sinned to God for not thinking of the homeless.

You have been very naughty O’ neighbor

For opening your windows across our own

In the middle of the night and allow us to hear

Your nightly activities consisting of ooohs and aahhs

Helping me imagine before surrendering to my naughty dreams

The balls that are cupped by my hands

Feel strange.

Are they anticipating?

They feel loose and warm and proud.

Could it be that you are watching?

The balls that are played by my fingers

Feel tingly.

Are they waiting?

They feel as if they are strings of pleasure.

Could it be that you are watching?

The balls that are tickled by your nails

Feel ashamed.

Are they embarrassed?

They feel as if you will scratch and cut.

Could it be that you are watching?

The balls that are wet by your tongue

Feel restless.

Are they proud?

They feel as if you would lick some more.

Could it be that you are watching?

The balls that are cupped by your supple lips

Feel tight.

Are they ready?

They feel as if they will release the delirium

Now that you are watching.

She walked towards me, holding both her bosom. They are huge, more than enough for her palms to clasp. The extra skin peering on her hands makes a sensual view, giving me enough space to explore, even if she covers them. Her approach is not as a predator, it is like a colourful-feathered bird that wants to display its dance, and then surrendering to the spectator for the mating ritual. She has all what she needs --- her body, her naughtiness, her nakedness. She flaunts them all for me to get excited, and later to do the ritual with her.

When your lips touch my skin

I shivered.

I like the way the moistened piece of you


To my senses all over.

When your lips touch my neck

I quivered.

I like the way the moistened piece of you


To ticklish areas and zones

When your lips touch my breasts

I lost my breath.

I like the way the moistened piece of you


To supple gifts and invitations

When your lips touch my opening

I gulped in pleasure.

I like the way the moistened piece of you

Prepares and expects

To pound and fill with ecstasy.

When your lips touch my lips

I cried.

I like the way the moistened piece of you

Caresses and assures me

To more nights like this when your lips touch me again.

You have been very naughty O’ neighbor

For allowing me to “see” you taking a leak on your fence

While drinking alone in your backyard

Pretending the world is yours with your swollen manhood

That stirs my discreet fantasy to expected reality.

Did you start the year with a


Glorious sounds and rhythmic noises

driven by the conscious effort not to

be carried away by the moan of pleasures.

While outside the world eagerly celebrates

horns of children shouting

or firecrackers shooting to the new year.

The time is right, this moment is perfect. She is ready and anticipating. I am hard and imposing. The only missing component is the joining of the body and the equation is complete. But there is a need to approach this delicately. Her wetness is not an indication that she is to be immediately claimed. It just means that the floor is ready for the dance of the flesh.

She is happy with the achievement, allowing me to reach the potential length that is within her expectations. She can make me bigger, that choice is already surrendered to her. What I can do now is to make the most of her playfulness, to ensure her that what she unleashes is worth her while. My manhood agrees with me.

You have been very naughty O neighbor

For disrobing me, caressing me, claiming me

When I give in to your sinful invitation,

Carefree mounting and bringing you to spaces you want to show

To other neighbors whom you will soon be doing it with.

She moans, I moan, and she tried to stop my mouth from taking the strength out of her, especially when my tongue claims her pinkish tip. She shouts out my name, and lots of plea to stop. I don’t, for my mind is out of my body anymore, and I am allowing pleasure to take control. Good choice.

I cried.

That is the only thing I can do

When I am tied up


On the corners of the poster bed

And you are between my legs

Looking for something

Tasting for something

Crazy for something.

Forgive me Father for I have sinned.

When you swam on the pool with the children naked.

Your bulge is so prominent and obvious that

I thought of touching it,

Feeling it, tasting it?

But then felt ashamed that I am not fair to the children.

Your position in the bed is

Enticingly pleasurable

Giving way to further adjusting

Until we reach the final pose

And all the gratification

The exercise has to offer.

It brings us closer together

In soul and mind

But make us one

Joined together by the lock of my keys

And the tightness of your opening.

Under the sea where you claimed to be from

Like the goddess Venus birthing from a foam and shell

You stand before me with your nakedness

And your inhibition taken away by the angry surfs

Similar to the anger I am exposing

Standing before you with my nakedness

A blend of anticipation, eagerness, lust

As we dip to the place of subterranean eroticism

unfathomable craving for what is pleasurable

swimming on the glory of your breasts

diving on your mysterious narrowness

plunging on your tolerant opening

with waves of fingers caressing our bodies

submerged in carnal yearning.

Your position in the bed is

Deeply embarrassing

Giving way to further humiliation

Unbelievably viewing your current pose

And all the broadsheet scandals

Your indiscretion has to offer.

My best friend is linked with you awkwardly

Not thinking of the consequences

That will separate us incessantly

In an awkward linkage and cramped position

Because of the tightness of your opening.

I gasp.

That is the only thing I can do

When you trigger the spot


Connected to wires and buttons

Bringing erotic shocks

Mild tap for pleasure

Medium pressure for pleasure

Hard shivering for pleasure.

I am running late

But I will not be dictated by time

Because as I leave the shower, wet

I use the towel to awaken my imagination

And heightened my desire to feel pleasure

With fingers rubbing the thirsty skin

Hydrated by the soft scent of milky lotion

And the lingering breath of perfume.

Until I feel wetness on my chin. No much, but good enough to know that she has been pleasured, and is now ready to accept the final part. She is unapologetic for the mess, and I cannot blame her. It is my own doing.

Forgive me Father for I have sinned.

That I am in the confession box with you.

My breathing so heavy of anticipation that

I thought of touching you,

Feeling you, pleasuring you.

And I will accept the forgiveness of God and your pardon and (hopefully) release.

Alone in the office

Holidays are coming

The idle desktop and silent phones

Create whispers and suggestions

That one can secretly do

Without being subjected

To disciplinary actions.

Just be mindful of the surveillance

And the occasional cleaners

(They come to the office and do their thing)

While I am here in my cubicle

Zip down

Pants down

Hands moving up and down

Until the holidays are done

And the workplace is full and I am not

Alone in the office.

I stopped

Not because I need to pause and rest

But because I must rest my mind from

The mind-blowing experience you have allowed me

To partake with you late last night.

You have given me the ability to

Explore you and your fantasies

Producing realities to your imaginations

That you thought I cannot do

But I can, and I am proud to do

To the nakedness of you.

When it is my turn to be filled in

With experience and thoughts and desirous undertaking

I have one hand on the pillow and another on your hair

As your head bobs and your tongue discovers,

I close my eyes and prepare to scream

As I wet and come and squirt and flow

Like the ideas to my prose bonded to this paper

I must pause and rest my head

To experience a fraction of that pleasure again

And again, as evidenced by

My stiffed neck, locked jaws and scratchy throat

To complete a story that was

The overtness of our bodies and carnal intentions.

I yelp.

That is the only thing I can do

When you whip my nakedness


Leather straps and ribbons

Swelling breasts and bottom

Begging and thrusting

Moaning and thrusting

Coming and (still) thrusting.

I have heard that plea many times in the bedroom. No means “do not stop”, and yes means “do not stop”. It does not matter if the words are in one long plea or in continuous delivery. When you hear it, you must continue what you are doing. Do not stop.

When I opened the door

There you are

The first passenger in the

Order of circuit programming

With legs apart and mindlessly


While the driver is looking

At the carnal invitation

In between your shifts

And his.

Here I am given the choice

To sit with you or

Call this one out

But the answer is obvious and

The driver agrees

That we need to partake in this

Pleasurable ride

With you causing the reason

Not to be bored on the jam

With your fingers under there

And my fingers tapping

On my phone asking where the

Cab is on a rush hour

Because my mind is making

Traffic stories again.

I am running late

But I will not be mindful of the papers

To be signed later as I feel the straps on my breast

Clinging as hands do to my now dampness

Filling the cup of lusciousness, plump

Fresh from the lather of soap that satisfies the tip

Bringing shivers to my nakedness

in the middle of warm sprinkles.

The breeze and the chill

Of the air outside

Makes me just want to stay in bed

And cuddle in your warmth

Rather than deal with the dried branches and shrubs

I would stay here wet with your kisses

Nearly moist with your touch

Because you make me feel hot and feverish

Making me think not to report for work.

I am running late

But I will not apologize

Because I may have wasted some minutes of your day

Or have kept you waiting in the conference room.

When the lace of my undergarments touches

the hair of my womanhood,

I surrender to the ecstasy created minutes after

Caressing, playing, screaming.

Finally, a eureka moment. It is as if the stars and moon align to give us both that position, when I can move forward and deeper, and she can accept my efforts with just pleasure, pure pleasure. There may be little pains in the process, but she is tough and strong. She endures her share of pain for both of us, and we triumph.

These poems are excerpts from the main book:

Exclusively distributed and available at Amazon


Download this book for your ebook reader.
(Pages 1-18 show above.)