My breast at midnight
Is round and plumptious
My nipple, pale brown and tender
The skin, so soft, is sensitive
Aching to be paid homage to
Yearning for touch, both light and hard
Tongue winding, teeth biting
Fingers pinching, twisting, pulling
As I moan and call your name.
Moving down me, my mind laments
You, leaving my breast, at midnight.
Please Rate This Submission:
- 1
- 2
- 3
- 4
- 5
- Recent
Comments - Add a
Comment - Send
Feedback Send private anonymous feedback to the author (click here to post a public comment instead).
There are no recent comments - Click here to add a comment to this poem