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Click hereIt could hit you in a garden
where your wife's cousin Barbara
bends over some chrysanthemums
and in the denim drawn tight
over her long, settled thighs
you see lizard-skin boots,
a little rat-tail switch
clutched in her fist like a rose,
and her tongue quick and raw
as a snake's slide through grass.
None of which ever shows—
has ever shown, ever shone
—in the sweet brown teacakes
of her cozening eyes.
Nice little number, let's hope your wife doesn't see it. ;-)
An enjoyable piece of erotica. I always feel I should make a critique when I comment but I've got nothing really to ssy except this rattles in ones head like marbles, which is good.
bb
Coming out of my self inforced silence to say that is just fantastic