Clitville

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115 words
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His hands

touch me when I sleep.
Bringing soft, tight breast
into a pucker, to be kissed
long and hard. Hardly worth
the wait. Till,

strong fingers grasp,
rounding end to cupped end.
Introducing lips, tongue.
Meeting in the middle
and capturing rings of

jewels. Pressing harder
as wetness seeps and spreads
in Clitville. All the action
takes a front seat, gravitation
meets

his master. When pull
comes to bat. A snug
flirtation within his cave
of juicy moist kisses. His tunnel
of desire, dug deep and

fierce. Single lane
lines, keep it in the middle
of a high, long drive. No outs
this inning. Homerun,
straight into his treasure
hidden deep, into outfield.

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8 Comments
AmyfriendAmyfriendabout 17 years ago
Action on the mound...

he spits... she gets a home run

duddle146duddle146about 17 years ago
pleasurable.

So aptly describes the sensuous thoughts ~ while on the way to a most erotic location.

TeeTeeTeeTeeabout 17 years ago
Safe!!!

Cute little write RF playball!

thanks for sharing

T_T

Unbridled_PassionUnbridled_Passionabout 17 years ago
there is alot

of joy in Clitville, for RF has definately not struck out!

AnonymousAnonymousabout 17 years ago
p.s

mentioned in today's new poem reviews

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