Lust

'Twas not just my soul that was tortured that balmy summer night_
As like a silent patient kneeling,
My bound hands an alabaster white,
I caught my cousin confounded yet pleading
In the flickering of the light of the countryside fireflies;
Her nipples were a pert pink shine.

Her body shivered and I could hear the sounds of the colors in her eyes,
I could taste the quiet covered moans of her pleading tongue for mine own,
As in a sudden sodden whimpering peal
her clitoris began to harden and then to rise.
Like a hosepipe to the sun-dried grass,
Her vagina as it spread began to flow.

He pulled her legs apart and in plain
view of my secret shame she came;
He took her from behind until his pale-eyed sibling finger-fucked her with his cum inside.
She moaned and she cried but not from any sort of agony or even fear of the next day's cuss;
(Which would surely never come
For I would spill this secret not to one.)

She moaned for there amidst the fading dusk she knew she'd lost the tortured soul that like a Silent saint was used to quiet morning prayer;
For now instead there was just lust.