tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-56376792024-03-07T20:03:23.177-08:00Viewing the local antiquitiesMy own secret lifeJohn Psmythhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04133569977921945501noreply@blogger.comBlogger420125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5637679.post-923550254874562732007-04-30T06:49:00.000-07:002007-05-02T12:34:05.494-07:00Punctuation"?""....""?""!"(){}—:—:!!!!!!!!!!(...)...()....{N.A.}Tags: sex; whores.John Psmythhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04133569977921945501noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5637679.post-51590838887745685462007-04-29T05:16:00.000-07:002007-05-02T10:45:49.353-07:00True virtue in the District of ColumbiaWhere does true virtue lie? With the honest w<!---->h<!---->o<!---->r<!---->e who grants me the use and pleasure of her flesh for an hour? Or does true virtue lie with the utterly corrupt ruling class that pays for her services with the money they make from war, or from selling the war?Or does true virtue lie with the john who makes his living by promoting abstinence?Randall Tobias resigned as John Psmythhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04133569977921945501noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5637679.post-55594453286102473522007-04-26T19:20:00.000-07:002007-04-26T19:39:03.700-07:00Taking my pleasureTaking Angel from behindTaking the plastic bag with the crackersThe spoonThe tinThe blue ice packFrom Petrossian's to the door of her brothelTaking her hand as she leads me upstairsTaking the money out of my walletTaking my timeTaking my time while I eatDigging inMessyNoisyChewing with my mouth openChewing with her mouth openSaltyTaking a breatherTaking my pleasureTaking Angel from behindTaking John Psmythhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04133569977921945501noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5637679.post-11781910447873257612007-03-05T19:25:00.000-08:002007-04-30T17:13:16.319-07:00My mistress, when she walks, treads on the groundI walk in my hide, walk naked from her rented bed through her hall to her efficiency kitchen, as if I were at home; as if I had all the time in the world; as if we were lovers.She, naked too, stands at the electric stove, lifting the edge of the pancake so the batter runs under: a single huge pancake, in the special pancake pane.I put the syrup and margarine on the kitchen table; her fridge, a John Psmythhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04133569977921945501noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5637679.post-67414183065797380192007-03-05T18:50:00.000-08:002007-03-05T18:51:18.570-08:00"Goodbye, my friends!"Angel, of Dunkin' Donuts, grasping her midriff overspill in both hands.{N.A.}Tags: sex; whores.John Psmythhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04133569977921945501noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5637679.post-1170533126934017192007-02-03T11:59:00.000-08:002007-02-11T22:27:03.986-08:00Long timeSlowing stretching straining pausing my endurance all the way up her: All my weight poised on her ample cheeks, borne down through her loadbearing thighs, knees: There may come that confident moment when I sense, looming, the cheekrippling titswaying foamsighing slamgrunting cockclenching loving my yaw petite vessel as much as I can—But not this time. Like Noah I sent out a bird that never John Psmythhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04133569977921945501noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5637679.post-1170475646218934692007-02-02T20:02:00.000-08:002007-02-03T12:46:02.706-08:00"Is this your first time"?"Here?""What your name?""John.""Do you have children?""No.""Are you smart?""Smarter than some, not so smart as others.""What is your job?""It would be hard to explain. Information technology.""Technogy.""What is your name?""Jenny.""Slow, slow!""Are you married?"{300}Tags: sex; whores.John Psmythhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04133569977921945501noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5637679.post-1169863690023184272007-01-26T18:02:00.000-08:002007-03-05T20:20:18.509-08:00Yet well I know that music hath a far more pleasing soundAngel clicks on the boombox because of the neighbors.My knees sink deep into the mattress.The bedframe creaks creaks creaks—The headboard bang bangs bangs the wall—"Does—the—noise—bother—you—""No!"Errraaugh! Ah!"My hero!""This is not a good bed."{300}Tags: sex; doggy; whores.Angel's Apartment: 1, 2, 3.John Psmythhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04133569977921945501noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5637679.post-1169693614544820742007-01-24T18:43:00.000-08:002007-04-30T17:23:18.360-07:00No such roses see I in her cheeks"—but you have to pay more because it is my apartment."Angel unchains her door, greets me: Grey just-like-silk nightie with cheesy black fringe round the hem and deep neckline; not the white cotton and lace that I gave her. She wears pom-pom slippers: Bare feet: muscled calves: aging belly: creased neck: spotty complexion: She—Smiles. I swell."I don't have a job.""Why?""The other girls had John Psmythhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04133569977921945501noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5637679.post-1168662367885598092007-01-12T20:19:00.000-08:002007-01-23T15:23:24.353-08:00Today Angel asked me for moneybecause her slipped disk means she's unable to work.I don't have it; but if I did have it, would I give it? I haven't even seen a diagnosis on paper; all I've seen is the perfectly circular pattern of bruises on her back, where she got herself cupped. That seems genuine, since she might have lost clients turned off by them. But I'm not sure I want to invest in her small business."It's OK. I sent John Psmythhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04133569977921945501noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5637679.post-1167961977543849782007-01-04T17:46:00.000-08:002007-01-09T14:16:08.720-08:00A nice girl like youJenny collects the damp towels, smoothes the rucked blanket: Winnie-the-Pooh.{300}Tags: sex; whores.John Psmythhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04133569977921945501noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5637679.post-1151373385399561642006-06-26T18:54:00.000-07:002007-01-02T14:51:54.946-08:00And people judge whores and johns?Yech.{NA}Tags: sex; whores.John Psmythhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04133569977921945501noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5637679.post-1150728912991412832006-06-19T07:54:00.000-07:002006-06-20T11:06:51.916-07:00My French was not goodNot the fat one, not the old one, not the one with the scar lifting her lip:Black flesh under the street lights, in the doorways, the sidestreets, the alleys, the first time I strolled up, then down Ste ——— in Paris:I'd just wanted to look.Walking back to my pension, a little man followed me; I rounded on him, saw his trembling smile, waved my arms, shouted. And drove him away. John Psmythhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04133569977921945501noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5637679.post-1149643828979679542006-06-06T18:28:00.000-07:002006-06-11T15:48:11.580-07:00Angel got caught in a speed trap."Is there corruption here?""Only small corruption."Angel wrinkles her nose; I smile."What are you thinking?"She won't let me pick up the tab.{NA}Tags: sex; whores.Dedicated to Pru.John Psmythhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04133569977921945501noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5637679.post-1149353387815741492006-06-03T09:42:00.000-07:002006-06-21T21:23:10.450-07:00Specific gravityCome, verb, came, come, coming. To reach a destination; to arrive by movement or progress.Coming is like crying: a sudden wet burst not up to me to stop: my face, beyond control, no longer rigid—Like sneezing: once, twice, involuntary: ejecting a loud sloppy loogie:Or not sneezing: a false climax.Coming is like sniffling because my cock seeps precome.Coming is like sweat in the hottest of John Psmythhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04133569977921945501noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5637679.post-1149036688317249682006-05-30T17:50:00.000-07:002006-05-31T16:45:22.336-07:00"I like it with you.You don't pull out and start over, like some other guys."{300}Tags: sex; whores.John Psmythhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04133569977921945501noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5637679.post-1148843421161642362006-05-28T12:05:00.000-07:002006-05-28T12:11:51.080-07:00Is she, or isn't she?Entries that ask the question: Is she a whore? The title of each link gives a clue to reasons I'm inclined to think so.fingernailsschedule issues on-the-hour timingoverheard conversation general demeanor{NA}Tags: sex; whores.John Psmythhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04133569977921945501noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5637679.post-1148750804891541102006-05-27T10:24:00.000-07:002007-04-30T19:02:52.882-07:00Plastic spoonsBetween the first and the second service, I open the Assouline sack: The blue ice pack: The small silver jar: Melba toast:"I thought it was your sandwich!""No.""We'll need spoons.""Plastic spoons!""I' go get them."Black spheres like a heap of shot, glistening like a deposit of coinage: Sticky moist eggs pop their casings, releasing the silvery edge of a sea at the sky's scent:We sit side by side John Psmythhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04133569977921945501noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5637679.post-1148325189115532302006-05-22T12:12:00.000-07:002007-01-12T18:17:58.396-08:00FlaneurFramed in the upper room's window, segmented machine limbs shine like black chitin:From the cafe, I watch the street's catwalk: spaghetti-strapped high-breasted art students, backpackers, suburban MILFs, sk8ters, black-robed Muslims, Asian girls in flip-flops carrying instrument cases: Asian girls from the mainland dressed in odd color combinations:A goth in a pink plaid skirt with a big gold pinJohn Psmythhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04133569977921945501noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5637679.post-1148138894395131202006-05-20T08:26:00.000-07:002006-05-20T08:29:19.440-07:00Her aching backThe gold chain round her bare neck does not swing:Her shoulders are stiff:She bears her weight on her knees:But her pelvis reciprocates smoothly:Sure as a girl gymnast stepping through her routine on the balance beam—she / does / her / trick:pumping me to a quick come.{300}Tags: sex; whores.John Psmythhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04133569977921945501noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5637679.post-1148091712270256422006-05-19T19:18:00.000-07:002007-01-03T17:32:14.413-08:00Other voices, other roomsand call Annie's old agency, on the off chance:"Who do you have working today, and what do they look like?""I have Angel and Marissa. Angel is 5'6", blonde, 34C, 120 pounds, 23—" [click].I redial the number: Non est disponsible.I buy a banana (phosphorus!) in the corner store to kill time. Then redial."Call back in 10 minutes.""I'm back. Marissa?""Marissa is 5'2", dark hair, 32B, 100 poundsJohn Psmythhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04133569977921945501noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5637679.post-1147841025205971082006-05-16T21:43:00.000-07:002006-05-17T13:37:30.413-07:00Is she, or isn't she?I follow her down the aisle, admiring the dragon tattooed green in the brown flesh of the small of her back.She shoves the door at the end of the car open, then turns:One hand at the handle of the tiny overnight roller bag: long nails.Much too long pearly nails, flawless; too long for typing, dialing, writing; too long to hold the pen while taking an order; too long to pick up a plate or a tray;John Psmythhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04133569977921945501noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5637679.post-1147664613668888672006-05-14T20:41:00.000-07:002007-02-03T18:44:41.903-08:00Archaic smilesReversed in the glass, Jenny's crouched on her forearms, golden ass high: glossy black head bowed, hands cupped under the bowl that she laps from to steady it:Her palms nudge me up: Up: My own hands slide down my thighs, pull my knees further back toward my shoulders, cant my center of gravity easily up to her feasting mouth:Reversed in the glass: My legs, flung outward, spread even more widely: John Psmythhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04133569977921945501noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5637679.post-1147620785208679352006-05-14T08:29:00.000-07:002006-05-14T08:33:05.330-07:00Her breath rattlesand the night nurse has the morphine at hand.("I am sorry I have to kill you!")It would have been all about me.{NA}Tags: sex; whores.John Psmythhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04133569977921945501noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5637679.post-1147573419504693302006-05-13T19:21:00.000-07:002006-05-16T19:31:17.320-07:00Riding my bike uphillon the way to the lawyer's, I'm gasping after ten strokes of the pedals; my thighs ache.No endurance.{NA}Tags: sex.John Psmythhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04133569977921945501noreply@blogger.com0