Exercises in Fixed Form by Anel Viz

Exercises in Fixed Form

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Gay Showpieces: Exercises in Fixed Form

Getting a Blowjob (sonnet)

I love to feel his mouth between my legs

Exciting pleasure both soothing and cruel.

When his tight throat constricts my swollen tool

To milk me dry and drain me to the dregs,

And his soft tongue nudges my tender eggs,

And his warm breath sends ripples through the pool

That bathes my pubes in my sweat and his drool,

I writhe in torment and my body begs.

I yield him my defenselessness to suck

Till my back arches and my haunches buck,

And his stiff finger drives deep in my hole,

Presses in me, and a wild spasm grips

Me as the semen gushes up my pole,

Which, calm again, I’ll taste upon his lips.

A kiss and yet another kiss (pantoum)

A kiss and yet another kiss.

We held our hungry bodies pressed

Against each other, mine and his,

Groin to groin and chest to chest.

We held our hungry bodies pressed

In the sweat of our embrace,

Groin to groin and chest to chest.

Desire blossomed in his face

In the sweat of our embrace.

“I want your hardness in me. Yes.”

Desire blossomed in his face

With tender, longing eagerness.

“I want your hardness in me.” Yes,

That warm glow spreading from the center

With tender longing… Eagerness

To take possession and to enter

That warm glow spreading from the center,

Open for me in fear and trust

To take possession and to enter

And thrust again, again, and thrust.

Open for me in fear and trust,

He cried, “Oh God, yes! There! That’s it!

And thrust again! Again! And thrust!”

I dug my nails in him and bit.

He cried, “Oh God, yes! There! That’s it!”

We trumpeted our ecstasy.

I dug my nails in him and bit.

He pushed his buttocks into me.

We trumpeted our ecstasy.

I filled his bowels with my heat.

He pushed his buttocks into me.

Driven by the hammered beat,

I filled his bowels with my heat,

A river of pearls on a string

Driven by the hammered beat

That brushed his pulsing, clenching ring.

A river of pearls on a string

Dissolving in a creamy spill

That brushed his pulsing, clenching ring,

Pleasured beyond exhaustion, still

Dissolving in a creamy spill,

Two sex-surfeited members throbbing.

Pleasured beyond exhaustion, still,

Our passion-heavy breath like sobbing,

Two sex-surfeited members throbbing

Against each other, mine and his –

Our passion. Heavy, breath-like sobbing:

“A kiss and yet another kiss.”

High Dive (Pindaric ode)

strophe

Like the cork of the champagne

Popped and flew into the air

When we together as a pair

Celebrated your win again,

The snapping of the springboard cracked

Open the silence of the crowd,

The intake of breath hissing loud

At the sudden bowed impact

Like the foam of sparkling wine

Under pressure gasped and sprayed,

Bubbling forth in a cascade

That drenched your nudity and mine,

And, cork-like, your strong body soared

And hovered motionless there, held

By our uplifted eyes, propelled

By the recoil of the board.

antistrophe

For endless seconds poised, you stood

Waiting to dive, your tight, black suit

Adhering to the bulging fruit

Of your splendid athlete’s manhood

And your buttocks, firm and slim,

Your powerful and muscled frame

Godlike for worship, with the same

Smooth perfection in every limb.

Then you ran forward, leapt up, sprang,

Rose like an arrow-shot, and curled

Into a compact missile hurled

Spinning when the springboard rang,

Unfolding like a water bird

Gracefully plunging at a school

Of fish, the surface of the pool

Unrippled as you disappeared.

epode

That night on the floor

Of the den where once more

We drank a toast to your success

Before the fire,

Ribald desire

Kindled our naked drunkenness.

The champagne gushed

When my thumbs pushed

Up on the mushroom-headed plug,

Its bulbous cap

Crowning my lap

Where I was kneeling on the rug,

The bottle braced

Where it was placed

For leverage between my thighs.

Legs crossed, you sat

Reflecting that

Bottle with one of lesser size,

Engorged with blood,

Ready to flood

My parched throat with its foaming juice,

And I passed you

The bottle to

Hold while I gulped and you let loose.

Musette

Oh God.

So hard.

So thick.

So tight.

So right.

So slick.

So warm.

A storm.

Delight –

A yard

Of brick

Tonight,

Your rod,

Your prick.

Holding Hands (acrostic)

He and I walk down the street

Openly. The stares we meet,

Lovers, both of the same sex,

Defying – they think – Nature’s laws.

Insidious, perverse. It gnaws,

Nauseates them, and it wrecks...

Goodness knows what. That our act shows

Happiness in being close

And loving one another so?

Neither your sneers nor mutterings

Disturb the peace this closeness brings...

Strength, too – a strength you’ll never know.

My Hypnotist (triplets)

He told me I was naked when he looked into my eyes,

Then told me he was naked too. My cock began to rise.

The things that you believe are true are never truly lies.

He spoke the names of all his traits and features one by one

And conjured what propriety keeps hidden. When he’d done

I saw a complete naked man in muscle, flesh and bone.

My gaze surrendered to his voice, passed through his clothes, undressed

Him to skin, revealing to me contours I had guessed.

A languid cock hung heavily between his legs, at rest.

My eyes ran down his nudity and wandered up again

And fixed upon his face, his neck, his chest, his nipples, then

They brushed over his navel and his rippled abdomen.

One fingertip placed on my nape drained me of will and led

My steps to the room he described, where I lay on a bed,

The pillow underneath my loins and not under my head,

My arms and legs akimbo. The circles he traced around

My wrists and ankles, he informed me, meant that I was bound

And I would feel what he described, but must not make a sound.

The path between my waking thighs he followed with his lips

Guided them till they opened on a spot between my hips,

And sparks of pleasure flashed out to my toes and fingertips.

He nuzzled in my pubic hair. He licked, nibbled and bit

My tender, exposed private parts, and still he wouldn’t quit,

My balls and perineum bathed and dripping with his spit.

The nerve ends covering the head that crowned my rigid cock

Felt his moist mouth close over them. Then he began to rock

Forward and back down on my shaft, and an electric shock

Shot through me when my scrotum felt the contact of his chin.

My bloated manhood filled his throat. My head began to spin.

A finger greased my rosebud and then glided gently in.

The firm, insistent pressure on my prostate had soon wrung

A spasm from my innards which took hold of me and flung

My helpless, heaving body to the torture of his tongue.

Surfing the crest of ecstasy, submissive, I complied

And kept the silence he’d imposed on me, and neither sighed

Nor moaned nor whimpered all throughout that reckless, hurtling ride.

The pulsing tension in my groin continued to increase,

Spread down my legs and up my back, and the length of my crease

Pleaded in twitching agony for merciful release.

My orgasm exploded as a thundering applause,

The vision snapped and vanished, and I blushed deep red because

He’d talked me through fellatio and I’d cum in my drawers.

Pierced Dude (sestina)

The crazy clutter of chrome and silver studs,

Hooks and hoops, pendants, clips and rings,

Piercings that littered his unsmiling face everywhere

From chin to eyebrow, suggested a recycling center.

How much more hardware was hidden, I wonder,

On the skin beneath his torn, unlaundered clothes?

A peg in his skull to hang his keys or clothes

Would not at all have seemed misplaced on this stud’s

Head, like Frankenstein’s monster – a cause for wonder,

A human junkyard that glints, jingles and rings

Like a row of tin cans strung across the center

Of a communal pea patch to frighten the starlings somewhere.

When he passed by me, I turned my head where

I’d sat down to take a breather while buying clothes

For fall at a large, suburban shopping center

Near the stores that sell the crazy fashions young studs

Wear nowadays and watched them shopping. That rings

A bell? You do the same, I shouldn’t wonder.

My eyes don’t undress them. Their guessed-at forms are wonder-

ful enough: the slim hips and tight buns, the wide shoulders where

Their gym-toned muscles bulge, and the raised rings

Of their nipples under their tee-shirts. Without his clothes,

Though, this guy must be all metal, with one stud’s

Shiny knob poking his pee-slit through the center.

Without the boy beside him, for whom he seemed the center

Of existence, I’d have sworn that he was straight, I don’t wonder.

Merry, effeminate and infatuated, the kid tugged at the stud’s

Arm, flirted and giggled, though the two were nowhere

Alike, the youngster chic in his designer clothes

And not a trace of metal on his face, not even earrings.

Imagine them having sex: the boy’s ring’s

Stretched wide around the thrusting prick that turns the center

Of his being to jelly, the cum-stained sheets, their clothes

In a heap on the floor, the moaning boy’s wonder

How he can endure the love that bursts inside him, where-

as the top’s all wrapped up in himself, like other hot studs.

Oh, how this speculating glimpse that unclothes their intimacy studs

With thoughts of my youth’s recklessness the center of memory, where

Selfishness and longing spar, and sex rings in new wonder!

Bathhouse (terza rima)

The side street is deserted, dark,

But the length of the block is lined

With cars. There’s no place left to park.

Most private rooms have been assigned

Since shortly after ten o’clock

To men who came hoping to find

Someone to fuck or suck their cock.

Some twenty lockers, not much more,

Are empty. A forgotten sock

Lies on the vestiary floor

Beside a man still in his jeans,

His eyes watching the corridor

Where two boys just out of their teens

Exchange a whispered word or two

While standing at the pop machines.

He wonders if they’re going to

Hook up or came there as a pair,

And thinks, “They’re much to young for you,”

Pretending that he doesn’t care,

And turns his back to be discrete

(As if modesty matters where

Anonymous male partners meet!)

Before he reaches and unzips

His fly and pulls down to his feet

The denim pants that hug his hips.

He stands there in his boxer shorts

A little while, and then slips

Out of them.

All the while his thoughts

Imagine dimly lighted halls

Where sex-starved cruisers of all sorts

Stand casually by the walls

Or walk by in self-conscious haste,

Stroking their cock, cupping their balls,

With towels tied around their waist.

They peer through doors on either side

To see if someone to their taste

Lies stretched out on the bed inside,

Hairy or smooth, cut or uncut,

Smallish or large, a cock to ride,

A dick to suck. Some doors are shut.

Behind them you can faintly hear

The sex noises of men in rut.

A sigh or moan may reach your ear,

Or a gasp following a smack

That loudly lands on someone’s rear.

Behind the showers in the back,

Where the blaring disco boom

Is muted, naked bodies pack

A blind space, stuffy as a tomb,

And with their groping hands inspect

Each other in the orgy room,

Some brazen, others circumspect.

A hand runs down a chest and feels

The living wood of an erect

Penis. The man who touched it kneels

As if he meant to worship it,

Fondly caresses it and peels

The foreskin back and tongues the slit,

Licks round the head and down the pole

Until it’s slimy with his spit.

His open mouth sucks in the whole

Shaft to the base to feel it fill

His throat and drain the very soul

Out of him in the seed he’ll spill,

While the other stands his ground

And thrusts into his face until

His back arches, a strangled sound

Seizes his frame, and tangy, hot,

White cum spurts throbbing.

All around

Them in the darkness there, a lot

Of men have formed a circle and

Observed the blowjob. Now he’s shot,

They wait for their turn, prick in hand,

Wagging to tempt him, but he’s had

Enough, and goes out. They disband

And wait until another lad

Comes along and they get their chance.

The steam room, too, is full. A scad

Of men sit sweating, and their glance

Sizes up all who take a seat

There, or their hands blindly advance

And touch in the dark, misty heat

A muscled thigh, an erect tool.

The touch returned, perhaps they beat

Off, or else it is someone who’ll

Have his own room for privacy.

They’ll shower, let their bodies cool

Down, chat a bit, and get to see

Who they’ve picked up, and then have sex.

Not all are prowling hungrily.

A few have gone to firm their pecs,

Deltoids and abs up in the gym,

Although one of them slyly checks

Another out, and follows him

When he’s finished his exercise.

He searches him out in the dim

Hallway. The first shows no surprise

Because he sensed his interest.

Beneath their gym trunks bulges rise

When fingers brush across their chest.

“The showers first,” says one. So they

Head there together, get undressed,

And stand beneath the soaking spray

And lather up, and while they scrub

Both see what they have to display.

“You wait for me in the hot tub,”

Says one, “while I go get a drink.”

Could be a put-off or a snub –

The other’s not sure what to think.

He nods to him and goes to wait

For him there, lets his body sink

In the hot water.

Since it’s late

Just one or two have come to soak.

Ten minutes pass before his date

Returns and says, “I had a smoke.”

Beside each other on the ledge,

Knees touching, the two softly stroke

Each other’s parted thighs, a pledge

Of more intense pleasures to come.

The others there, their nerves on edge,

Strain their eyes to see through the scum

Of swirling bubbles that conceal

How one of them has placed his thumb

On his friend’s swollen dick. They steal

A kiss; both take it as a sign

That they are ready now for real

Sex. One asks, “In your room or mine?”

“My double, with the mirrors on

The walls and ceiling.” “Sounds divine!”

(The other wonders if he’s gone

And picked up someone fem.) They stop

Outside his room. “Let me make one

Thing clear to you, dude: I’m a top.”

The second answers with a grin,

“Yeah, baby, fuck me till you drop.

Just take it slow when we begin,

Then, if you want, go on all night.”

They open the door and go in.

Outside the sky is growing light

When the exhausted bottom wakes

Held in his sleeping lover’s tight

Embrace, and his hand gently takes

The heavy arm off him and goes.

His back is cramped, his asshole aches.

It went unnoticed in the throes

Of passion, so he doesn’t mind,

And smiles as he puts on his clothes

At how it felt to be fucked blind.

No sound of sex is heard, just snores.

It’s time to leave the baths behind.

The night attendant mops the floors.

Posted: 07/20/07