Devlin De La Chapa

by Horror Sleaze Trash on February 11, 2013

Devlin De La Chapa editor @




Inside My Girlfriend

The flesh

of my girlfriend’s lips

taste like

dark chocolate




on my tongue

I think

of Cappuccinos



every time

we French kiss

I have

this urge

to stick

my tongue


her plump juicy


The drizzling

of her

rampant scent


every stray dog

to my house

My girlfriend

is then forced

to slap

my dog away

when he tries

to lick

her snatch

She giggles

and thinks

my antics strange

She then

pets my head

and my knob

turns red

and erupts;

my tongue

never ever

makes it

inside her pussy




She Comes Three Ways

she’s wicked

she’s brutal, AND

she loves to fuck

those massively

dense mechanisms

she calls Men

who live to love living it all up

inside her fuck hole,

inside her shit hole;

she jacks off on the way

her pussy retorts

when those swollen heads

slam deep within her,

breaking through her sanctuary,

jack-hammering those forbidden walls,

thus splitting the lust of her concrete jungle

thrust after fucking thrust

up until the point of no reparation;

she gets off on the way

her pussy constricts like an Anaconda,

choking the shafts of her willing-est preys

while the molten of her juices ooze like lava

from within a de-virginized volcanic eruption

she is brutal death and god’s rawest production-

a portrait of great climatic imagery




The Morning After Pill

inspired by DJ

I don’t think I really care to know your name ‘cause it’s all the same but you’re not to blame-I guess I’m just built that way. I would ask for an “Amen!” but what good would that do? I just want to slouch here on your couch and watch Gangnam Style a hundred times before you settle on my cock and ask why I don’t fuck you instead?

But how do I explain that you’re not a very sexy lady?

Last night during our “date” at the local bar, I secretly confess, like around my 9th round of Tequila shots, how I watched you squat, then how I thought about how I wanted you and your boyfriend too. But funny I’m nowhere near the vicinity of gay. It’s just that your boyfriend would have seemed the better lay compared to the way you mis-behaved.

But instead. . .

I woke up with a dog licking on my face. It yelped as I grabbed its tail and yanked it off the bed when I realized I was in an unfamiliar place: was this my place, your place, his place ‘cause it was somebody’s fucking place only rearranged in symmetrically parallel designs Ikea would be jealous of.

Then I remembered you worked at Ikea.

The boyfriend tells me it was nice, a mind-blowing experience to have another guy fucking his girlfriend as he fucked her too, and so on and so on. . .yadda, yadda, yadda. I just wanted to get my crap and split but she’s made breakfast for three.

So I sit.

Back on the couch you tell me your name after I specifically requested “names” to remain anonymous per my ad in the local Beat. I lose interest and pet your dog till it gets bored. The same dog that licked on my face is now sitting beside your boyfriend playing with your vast collection of video games. I eventually pick up a controller and jump into a game just to avoid you the way your boyfriend and your dog avoid you. And it’s really not your fault. We’re just built this way.

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