Poem: The Other Man By Orville Lloyd Douglas.

He is not included  in the family photographs from the previous birthday parties, Christmas celebrations , or New Years Eve  bashes.

He wishes that one day he will have the magnificent wedding, the smash of glasses after the ceremony, the sweet kiss.

He imagines that the words, the potent sentences, the promises, will materialize into veracity.

He lives in the shadows of deceit.

He sucks your husband’s nine-inch cock on your bed while you are at work.

He works hard taking his stiff, hard, dick, all the way to the  back of his throat.

He carefully smothers the enormous hairy balls with love and tastes the succulent honey.

He knows he has done a good job when the nectar explodes and splashes on to his face.

He watches as your husband sighs and says he loves you.

He knows he doesn’t really mean it because love is supposed to have an element of reciprocity.

He wants to prove he can suck cock better than the oral sex champion Monica Lewinsky.

He wonders who sucks cock better the wife or him?

He fucks your spouse spread eagle on the mattress every Tuesday and Thursday at 4:00pm.

He watches Oprah after the sex,  it isn’t afterglow it’s just a part of the ritual.

He kisses his muscles, soaks him in the bubble bath while he complains about you.

He dreams that one day he will divorce the bitch and move from the suburbs to the city.

He rubs his back praying that one day he will leave this woman for him.

He knows he will never win because he lives in chains.

He doesn’t exist in reality just in the mind this so-called sovereignty.

He returns every Tuesday and Thursday because he is a masochist.

He wants to be punished to relive this tragedy every single week.

He doesn’t want to give up sucking the nine-inch cock every Tuesday and Thursday at 4:00pm.

He cannot live without plunging his dick into his sweet tight ass. Why does his ass have to be so beautiful?

He cries to his friends telling them his beloved will never leave her.

He realizes his life is so boring without this spark.

He knows this addiction is worst than being an alcoholic or a drug addict.

He is cognizant that at least with addicts they have an epiphany that something just isn’t right.

He wants the feelings to stop like a light switch, but he won’t allow this to happen.

He  just can’t  stop cold turkey.

He reiterates this saga every Tuesday and Thursday at 4:00pm knowing this is as good as it gets for him.