Ivan Donn Carswell Poems

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She wrapped a paper towel around his softened cock
in what he thought was quaint affection, that was new,
an after-thought perhaps, refined appreciation?
She had never talked a lot in bed just let her actions
tell her needs in ways he understood with very little
coaching. And when he asked about the towel she said
relax, at last I’m bleeding, it’s a great relief, but I don’t
want to change the sheets. For him the revelation was a
sorry thought and dulled his urge to rise once more
and romp into the dawn. She must have read his mind,
held him close and whispered in his ear she didn’t care
about the sheets that much. But the paper towel
remained a hollow shell around his withered cock.
© I.D. Carswell

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