Derek Childs

by Horror Sleaze Trash on January 1, 2014


Twenty something year old writer, part time editor and published poet who was born and raised in Melbourne. I am a pretentiously egotistical university graduate (with delusions of grandeur of acquiring a doctorate), diligent worker (not really) and avid sesquipedalian. Additionally I am an enthusiastic video gaming geek, drama dork and occasional cook (and/or kitchen pyromaniac). I have a high appreciation for intellectuals and an incomprehensively low tolerance for morons. I frequently post depressing, soporific love poetry on my blog:

Vaginal Wine

What is the difference between the naked
and the nude? The visage of tantalising
flesh causes my anatomy to exponentially
grow, breaking through words and images
to the tranquil touch of your body’s tender
truth which caresses me with new found
ideologies on love. The truth is, the difference
is negligible, whereas the lust to pluck
and bite and nibble upon every inch of
your gorgeous form, like an automaton,
is indescribable to behold. ‘I am a
predator on the prowl for you,
’ I say, ‘always
on the hunt, longing to discover your ever
moist, rich, juicy cunt
.’ My body, like a
puzzle piece, fits inside your own, as though
I were purposefully designed for these
occasions. My genitals jiggle with raw
excitement at the image of nakedness
that befalls me, my arrow a quiver with
trepidation, awaiting the opportunity
to be shot in through your rosy gates and
strike with ferocity like a ravenous cobra.
For breasts are breasts; a gentle mountain
range with a pink hue, awaiting my fine
fingers to present them with a titty fuck.
The fluid that then dribbles forth from
between your legs, your vaginal white
wine, erupts, like a volcano, due to the
impressions of the unequivocal orgasm
that grasps your source of ecstasy,
and refuses to quit massaging; caressing;
plucking that which makes you scream
with endless entertainment, the intensity
of our passion being almost too illegal
to dictate upon the page, as my arrow
becomes a spear in but a flash of erotic
temptation, before being plunged deep
into the fiery depths of your centre,
the warmth tantalising my erection
as I move back and forth; in and out;
listening to you scream with lust, your
nails digging into my back as you wail
for more. ‘I love you!’ you howl, ‘oh,
God, I fucking love you! Yes, fuck me!
Fuck me! Fuck me! Yes! Harder! Harder!
and my sword, which becomes as hard
as barren rock, chaffed under a sun so
sweltering, harder than I have ever felt
before, swims through your oestrogen
after plunging into your depths like a
meteor. ‘Don’t stop fucking me!’ you
howl, like a scandalous slut, but you are
no whore, you are a goddess of various
appetites, sucking upon my flesh which
is ripe for titillation. If naked is nude
and nude, in itself, is the new naked
lucidity, then is love and sex similar
in nature? My penis slithers towards your
pulsating mass of sumptuous delights, like
a serpent, avidly searching for the moist
cavern in your centre to rest my elongated
muscle into you, thrusting my sword with
all of my force deeper into your body, and,
like a miner, sweating after several hours
of digging for buried treasure, I delve
deeper into you than any man has before,
touching a part of your central core you
never knew existed. In all your dreams
you never realised a fuck could go so
deep, the pleasure and pain of having
my spear bore into you, causing your
mouth to remain open, much like the
one within your centre biting down
upon my muscle, the tight, moist
hole I am honoured to enter grasping
hold of me with an unrelenting
strength. I place my fingers into your
mouth, your delicious tongue, dripping
with moisture, dancing across my filthy
flesh, these few fingers of mine
which were not long before rubbing
at your flap of skin which lingers above
your urethra, the rampage of sensual
energy which surged through my veins
and into your depths charging your
body with seismic, sexual electricity.
Your lips suck upon my fingers, my
breath coming out in loud gasps as
you tantalise me from both ends,
your legs wrapped around my centre
like the body of an boa-constrictor,
holding me tighter than true love
ever could. Up and down, back and
forth, we move in pleasurable unison,
the room quaking beneath our might,
as all of a sudden my body’s milk
is shot into you with the force of an
explosive launcher, your figure surging
backwards as we each heave a sigh of
exhaustion from our fifteen minute fuck.

Heaven’s Bed Sheets

I must for her lust for
her, if not only to
appease her, but to
finally grasp her
attention. For a
second? For a
minute? Time is
irrelevant for lust can
last a lifetime, and
even death will not
halter these
tantalising thoughts,
for in Heaven they
shall continue, and
if you one day
happen upon this
kingdom, I’ll meet
you in the bedroom.

Like a Werewolf

I’ve something for you, but it’s not
something that can be given, as
much as it is something that must
be taken; violently,
passionately, sexually,
in every meaning of the word.
This here was the beginning of
a dream I endured a few nights
ago; one I now wish to
articulate literally
to you. That knife you keep in the
kitchenette’s cupboard; the one you
use to slice; to hack, to cut; I
want you to pierce my skin with it
south of the equator. When I’ve
an erection, and my penis
becomes the hardest bone I have
attached to me; when the white
water rapids are shooting up
from my testicles to the tip
of my tallest tower, I want
you to bring that knife down upon
its stump and chop it from where it
grows. As the red liquid runs
as thick as semen from where my
appendage once resided, I
want you to take my trouser snake
and cook it in a pot. Once well
done, take it from the cradle and
place it in a roll. Now eat. I
want to hear the crackling crunch
as you bite into my pleasure
stick. I want to see the cream
gently dribble from your mouth and
the groan of satisfaction as
you swallow it whole. Suck upon
your whipped cream covered fingers and
lick your penis stained lips before
looking me in the eyes. Now tell
me, did your mouth enjoy eating
me as much as your moist cave
did last night as you rode me like
a horse across the bedroom? Do
you remember ravenously
howling like a werewolf in heat,
your breasts jiggling like jelly
as you moved constantly up and
down, bouncing back and forth like a
yo-yo; a seesaw, a spring, the
moist sound as your cavern sucked
my sword like a vacuum
cleaner reverberating
about the room. You provided
me with unlimited pleasure
as I fired myself into
you whilst my fingers caressed your
magnificently formed arse like
the hands of a masseuse. If your
enjoyment was as
unbelievable as my own,
after you urinate out my
semen and shit out the rest of
me, we’ll put myself back
together and do it all
over again tomorrow.



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