Category Archives: Erotica




Seth Doyle


This is the part of the story that is played after the record has long since finished and is still spinning on the player.


The sultry sounds of your secret melodies surprise my consciousness.

The love patterns of my thoughts pursue a passion in partnership with you.

The lack of our romantic bliss has cluttered the spaces of my thinking.

My heated desires perspire through my pores.

I drink my thoughts to quench my thirst for you.

My appetite for romance is my habitual hunger that one plus one equals two you.

My mind’s symposium pulsates to the rhythm of your heartbeat.

It feels good to stay stuck playing head-banging tunes of you nonstop and in stereo.


At one time or another, we will make a love song together.

Today, I play you on repeat.

Please read my other written work.

I adore you for reading my writing,


A Vacant Love Story


I need the punctuation of your persona to pierce my soul.
I’m lost in this flattened world.
The Christopher Columbus discovery of inhabitants already existing in this vast space underscores the sensational over the substantial.
The brevity of images defines the senses.

I am burdened by the binary sight and sound of you.
I’m enslaved by the thought of you.
The liability of your absence disrupts our connection.
The sum total of 1 plus 0 are not adding up 2 you.

I need to experience your truth, to inform me what I believe about you.
I’m filling the gaps of the unknown with figures of what is not fortified in my reality.
This confusion conjures beliefs once confirmed by warm and cold sensations.
You are a collection of curiosities.
Your casual hearts strings me along.
Your customs are not customary to me.

I lay my face on the screen to get as close as possible to your words.
Your texture is intoxicating unfamiliar.
I’m bathed in your light.
Your brilliance quickly dims because I haven’t touched you.

I long for your touch, taste, sound, smell & sight.
My eyes hold conversations you have never seen.
But in return I get syllables of silent sentences.
Your words are missing notes and are toneless.
The skeleton spaces between your characters are not fleshed out.
This longing for you is betrayal of my senses.

I sleep with you next to me, but I am restless and unsatisfied.
I need your sacred substance of significance stuffing me with the familiar.
I crave for the vibration of your organism.
I dwell in anticipation.
You respond.
I consume your fleshless character.
We light up the darkness with our back and forth intercourse.

Our characters
collide &

Read my other poems.
A Different Kind of Love
Morning’s Prelude

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Until the next time – I adore you for reading my blog,



A Different Kind of Love

I am itching for you.

We’ve been together for so long. Our intimate time is penciled on my calendar.

In preparation for this weekend’s steamy session —

I go to the drugstore to look for the product with the best slip.

Slippery when wet, is what is desired, when I brush up against you.

With great contentment, the date is here.

Our session begins with a shower.

Slowly, I wash you.

You’re soft.

I massage and coat you.

You hardened.

Fingers are used for separation.

My body bends forward like a F without a dash.

The hot sensations are hitting my mind.

Feel good moans become me.

I stand up and step aside.

The build-up is rinsed away.

Outside the shower, I stare at the mirror’s reflection.

You are no longer elongated. You have shrunken.

I am pleased.

You look good on me.

I gently towel and wrap you.

Hours later.

Intertwined. Braided together.

I fall asleep.

My hair is did.


Until the next time – I adore you for reading my blog,