My Own Girl

Author's note: ▼

72 lines, written for the September 2021 round of the Rebel Poetry Contest.

Prompt: I ain't goin' back again

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Rebel Poetry Contest  (18+) Open for March 2024 #2112615 by Warped Sanity

My Own Girl

As girlfriends go, she’s rather tall,
We always saw eye-to-eye.
But Moira never was overweight,
just larger than average size.

I always thought that she’d be mine,
the girl I ever would see
gazing over my breakfast bowl,
looking sweetly back at me.

Things went well for several years,
til she fell for my buddy Paul.
‘Just one of those things,’ Moira shrugged,
but it felt like a kick in the balls.

She packed up quick, leaving behind
some underwear still in a wad,
a couple of pairs of unworn shoes,
and a dress on the closet rod.

I’ve always been a handy guy,
but sex for one grows old.
Lonely days and endless nights;
an empty house feels cold.

Drowning my pitiful sorrows,
I downed my seventh beer,
and went to look at Moira’s clothes,
wishing that she were here.

The idea came from nowhere,
a bolt out of the brew.
I found myself in Moira’s bra,
her dress, and high-heeled shoes.

The silky swish of nylon hose
gave me a sensual walk,
and the satin caress of her panties
felt good on my throbbing cock.

One thing leads to another,
make-up and piercing my ears.
I even found the perfect wig,
and saw Moira in the mirror.

The more I dressed, the better it felt,
I wasn’t so all alone;
even went to the mall en femme
to buy some clothes of my own.

I dared to answer a knock at the door,
dressed up and feeling bold;
an old acquaintance of Moira’s,
stopping by to say hello.

Ken was startled to see me,
confused and intrigued by chance.
I asked him in, offered a drink,
and played at girlish romance.

Attraction is where you find it,
Ken took me in his embrace.
he wanted to be with Moira,
I wanted to take her place.

He asked me if I was ready,
I pulled up my skirt on the bed.
‘Relax and breathe, I’ll take it slow.’
‘Call me Moira,’ I said.

He played the scene to perfection,
making his entrance stage rear.
When we were done, Ken held me close,
kissing away a tear.

‘I don’t know what got into me,’
I blurted out in a rush.
‘I could get into it every day,’
he said with the cutest blush.

The house is sad and empty now,
lonely as ever it’s been.
I packed my bag with Moira’s clothes,
to be with my boyfriend, Ken.

Two of us answer to ‘Moira’ now,
one each for my buddy and Ken.
I really get off on being a girl,
and I ain’t goin’ back again.