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16Nov

My B*tches!

Dead of the night

They come to me

Crying like babies

Begging like paupers for a release

Of all that’s locked in them

Some married

Some single

Some gay

Some hopeless

Others, commitment phobics


The married ones say their wives can’t pull it off anymore

The single ones had rather pay to have their release

Than sacrifice their freedom

The gay ones say it’s a matter of choice

And what they prefer on the night

Nothing wrong with a bit on the side

The hopeless ones, no one will have them

The commitment phobics say this is heaven

No strings attached


In my hands, they are babies

I wean them

I train them to become boys

Sometimes they pass the test

Sometimes they fail

And their failure stinks


For the married ones who pass the test

I tell them, go home

Teach her how to get you from boyhood to manhood

The gay, single, commitment phobic and hopeless ones…

Some intentionally fail

So they can keep coming back

Selfish bastards


But those who pass regroup and find some missing links

With me, they feel alive and redefine their ‘manness’

Hopefully, they man-up!


I don’t just make them cum

I talk to them

I help them find their soul

And those who keep coming back no matter what I say

I make them cum

Wailing like a widow


But I’m no prostitute

But they, they are my b*tches


© 2010 Belinda Otas

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2 Responses to “My B*tches!”

  1. Deborah says:

    Belinda… there you go again 🙂

  2. Belinda Otas says:

    Deborah, I am just glad I made you proud 🙂 x

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