Love Poem: Inapropos Trois Faux Pas Jokingly Blurted Out
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Written by: Matthew Harris

Inapropos Trois Faux Pas Jokingly Blurted Out

Inapropos trois faux pas jokingly blurted out...

yesterday August 30th, 2022.

The following fictitious account
predicated upon words spilling
out me mouth before taking time
to think through how sarcastic remark
would affect primary listener.

Comments about marital matters
particularly ours (yours truly and wife)
uttered in earshot of the missus
in company of a fellow resident
who befriended us;
hours later, she gave me
a severe dressing down
in tandem with threatening
smacking mine gluteus maximus
(ultimatum never carried out)
viz yule eyes zing painful spanking
for uttering (even in jest)
unseemly unreasonable remark.

As iterated above,
she gave me a verbal lashing
unfurling unpleasant feedback
accompanied courtesy expressing
whooping tushy of her spouse,
which turned out as idle threat,
nevertheless verbalized black barbs
vicariously pounded mine posterior...
courtesy forced punishment
qua virtual reality
zealously, viciously, quickly...
causing actual percussive rumpus.

Meanwhile vibrations resonated
felt and heard round the world wide web
strongest quaking sensations
occurred upon double mattresses atop bed
within apartment unit b44
2 Highland Manor Drive,
but woody d'ya believe
drumming, and whipping hindquarters
spurred surging aftershock tremors
launched rocketed dormant pecker
(no fallacy - property yours truly).

Imagine slap happy counterpart,
she ain't misbehavin
just being her playful
(think cheeky) self
knick knack paddy whacking
undeservedly thrashing,
pummeling, humiliating, beating
the living daylights
buttucks long past their prime
formerly cute palm pilot buttocks,

now subjected simulated
heavy handed wallops
upon derrière, which cruel aging process
wrought ugly human cellulite,
nevertheless I made
feeble attempts to rear up in protest
against asinine wifely antics,
while she obviously disregarded
feebly wailing for nought
grammarian lamely uttering
friggin bloody murder in vain.

Zee figurative ball and chain
ain't no sadomasochist,
she just thrills
treating gluteus maximus (mine)
as a plaything
(think cat toying with mouse)
thwacking me fleshy behind
until derriere belonging to yours truly
felt comfortably numb.

Even a** hide from aforementioned scenario
the aforementioned shenanigans
predominantly arose, when
wedded counterpart owns advantage,
whereby I eagerly welcome shut eye
lo and behold only to experience
mine hinny quickly getting smacked
after I barely shuttered these tired eyelids
sneaking couple winks.

What recently began as
whimsical spur of
kickstarting moment
ushering tactile kibitizing
suddenly became nightly ritual,
whereby this humble husband
meekly surrenders bare bottom
(actually partner with skewed enjoyment
at my expense)
pulls off outer clothes
plus underpants (elasticity
long since stretched out)
wallopping me bum
until flesh heavily bruised.