Predictable Red Jacket Diary

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My ex lover strained
Just a little to get into
The slightly too small red jacket
It was a tease of hers

Her breasts were in the way
Of buttoning up
It was not meant to be
With fake pockets trimmed black

But that sight, her effort
Alone in front of me
Encourages these lost words
And the memory of her suck

What talent, what sights
Her moans and her sighs
That she reminds me of
Days and nights

Full lips, full face
Blowing head
Her flip
Tip sipping

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