There's no prose, poetry, verse or line
That could ever depict how well she works.
Bare to my front, naked and soft,
Moving senuously, quivering, melting.
With a sudden rippling thrill,
Building and building in raptures tease.
She clings to me, in an unconcious rhythm,
Sighing and moaning continuously.
Between kisses and near misses,
Famished for more flesh, amid the racing heartbeats rush,
We touch and touch and touch.
Untill the strange potency of manhood
Falls asleep without demands.
Monday, March 8, 2010
Um,um,um
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2 comments:
I loved the word play.Famished for more flesh, amist the racing heartbeats rush. Great Post! love your work.
I try to ignore your eloquence and persistence. It speaks so strongly, this voice that leaves me wanting more.
s
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