- Erotic Poetry
- hilt flowing
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and you have to howl for jism
i'll heave my hips to your mouth's tickle
the ribboned throat pulses a contraction
then
no frailties
just thrust and sweating scalp
a gagging snort and drooling saltiness
bite down on my swollen hilt
drag your teeth the length
and i'll crave that throated sluttiness
of course
you'll slather your fractured contortions
with my creamed heat
and rub your cunted froth till
a grunting young
thing
is addicted.
and the bench we left stained
a sexed rust
for
future swollen lips
silky mounds
and shaved crotch.
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