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Click hereThe rug we lay on was a gift from Deidre
one of your last years unfortunate beaux,
a gal lacking in imagination, it seemed to me,
the fluff came off and went up my nose.
One of your last years unfortunate beaux,
never making to the holidays in your arms
the fluff came off and went up my nose,
as I displayed my considerable charms.
Never making to the holidays in your arms
where your caresses made my flesh weak
as I displayed my considerable charms,
your tongue busy brought me to my peak.
Where your caresses made my flesh weak
each probing clitoral thrust from it's hood
your tongue busy brought me to my peak
hard luck Deidre this man sucks it good.
Poetry Survivor
Pantoum
You pulled off a lovely, lascivious piece here, fluff and all, in spite of the constraints of the form.
I find it more erotic than 'Someday my Prince will come'
Brings back memories of times with her on the rug, under the tree. Good Pantoum.
Good show! A pantoum can be a slippery beasty to nail as I recently discovered. I like it.