Stephanie Wytovich

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by Ian on October 13, 2010

Stephanie M. Wytovich is a senior at Seton Hill University where she is a double major in English Literature and Art History. She has numerous publications, the most recent being her poem “Signature,” and she enjoys painting and playing the piano. Stephanie has a blog at: Join Me In The Mad House and a cool Deviant Art page.


Loving a Prostitute

It wasn’t so much that I wanted you
It was that I needed you
You were a man,
And I was a willing woman
So in the end it only made sense

I would close my eyes when you touched me
Pretend that you were someone else
Licking my navel,
Caressing my breasts with calloused hands
Twisting my nipples with your fingernails
It repulsed me to look you in the eye
To see your partner easing inside of me
But that is what’s expected
That is what’s normal

Yet, oh, how I longed for a woman’s touch
To see her hair cascading,
Endlessly down her back
While she moved on top of me
Moving strands of hair out of my eyes
Tenderly exploring my body
With the soft hands of a matured muse

I ached to feel her in my mouth
Her sweet tongue dancing with mine,
Not this bourbon stained creature
Licking my tonsils
Gagging me on his stench,
While his sweat poured on my body;
I imagined the scent of her perfume

I could not conjure it,
For she was gone as quickly as she came
A working girl romance
That left me with drunkards
To fill the void.

His First Time

Close your eyes for a minute
Count to ten
Remember to breathe, dammit!
You’re so pale.
Did you think this was going to be easy?
It’s your first time for Christ’s sake!
Of course you’re going to be nervous!

Calm down…
Please just calm down,
What did you think what going to happen?
Fuck! Of course she is going to scream!
Wouldn’t you if someone touched you like that?

Easy now,
EASY! You can’t go that fast!
If you continue at that speed,
It will be over before it you know it.
Learn to savor it, child.
Enjoy the moment,
The pleasure.

That’s right…
Touch her there.
Move her hair out of her eyes,
So you can see that pretty lil’ face.
Now tell her to open that beautiful mouth of hers.
Jesus, child! Don’t ask her to do it.
She only has one purpose…
And that’s to obey you.

Nice, now put the gun in her mouth.
Oh stop your shaking… it’s not so bad!
See the way her eyes are glistenin’?
She likes it child,
She wants more.

Now tell her what you want her to do,
And how you want her to do it.
Girls like this will do anything son,
They just need some persuadin’.

Go ahead now,
You do what you want child,
Mama will be inside,
But I’ll leave the door open a lil’
Just in case you need me….

Plus, I like to hear the bitches scream too.

Think of Me

Your shadow dances on the shower wall
Seducing me with its rhythmic silhouette
As I see you wash yourself
From head to toe,
Your hands and fingers lingering
On your throbbing cock,
As you stoke it,
With droplets of burning water
Penetrating through your skin

I’m watching you
From the crack in the door
Feeling the steam collide with my face
Your scent lingering in the air
Flooding my nostrils
My own aphrodisiac

So keep playing.

Lather yourself up, baby
Try and cover your skin from my preying eyes
Because I’m already taking off my shirt
Nipples erect, with moistness between my legs
And my pussy is calling your name
But then again,
So is my knife

Tell me.

Did you think of me when you fucked her?
Drilled her from behind
Spraying your juice on our shower curtain
Leaving a permanent stain
A constant reminder
Of your adulterous behavior

Did you think of me when you dried her off?
Licking her navel
Toweling her off with my cotton blanket
Trying to wipe away your mark
When it was already burned into her flesh?


Well I thought of you when I fucked her
When I pushed her silky hair away from her face
And kissed her eyelashes,
While I slit her throat
And licked the blood off her breasts

And I’ll think of her when I fuck you
My tongue dancing around your dick
Playfully swallowing your balls in my mouth
Biding sweet time until I castrate you,
And leave you to die
So you’ll think of me then.

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