Dance of the Hours
by Peter Loaf

The crowd grows restless, rising curtain
The spotlights waiting, aiming certain
Hard bound and sitting
Gravity pitting
Riding the pony, juices squirtin’

My weight is resting, my pubic bone
My pussy pinching, weight of six stone
The stainless pony
Earning a Tony
Passion play staging, holding the phone

Confession making, balanced on bar
Bound in position, a porno star
Each passing minute
Seeming infinite
Starting to struggle, I don’t get far

The pain comes stabbing, each little move
My pain controlling, something to prove
My voice betraying
My pain displaying
Off-off-off Broadway, deSade at the Louvre

The shouted questions, answering truth
The pony prancing, the biting tooth
My subbie lusting
My head adjusting
Pheromones flushing, the scent of youth

Channel my feelings, performance begun
Don’t Stop Believin’, with feeling sung
The crowd goes quiet
The moment they buy it
Backing band Journey, join in the fun

Audience sniffing, my laden scent
My body shinning, my message sent
The pain perverting
Pussy juice squirting
Spotlights are focused, theater bent

My clitty swollen, touching the steel
My Mistress tickles, helpless I feel
A buzzer buzzing
My vision fuzzing
My first orgasm, to seal the deal

Dancing orgasmic, singing my songs
Flanders piano, to her belongs
Pain becomes passion
Bippy stick slashin’
Dance of the Hours, righting all wrongs


Dismounting pony, still in my rig
Pussy un-pinched, dancing a jig
The smell of herring
A strap on wearing
Bent over table, spiky and big

My collar clipping, I cannot rise
The crowd applauding, the helpless prize
Molly regarding
Pussy still smarting
My ankles spreading, smoldering eyes

Spiky dong touching, propped open jaw
Slobber lick spitting, to tonsils draw
Pussy lips swollen
Hook in my colon
Poor pussy prying, very last straw

Deep spiky thrusting, passion explodes
Pussy lips bruising, my world implodes
The spikes I’m gripping
My Mistress ripping
Standing ovation, the curtains close

Dance of the Hours