- Erotic Poetry
- Poke
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If you were a worthy bloke
The man whom I call 'Master'
You then would know just how to poke,
And slow down even faster.
You'd rush my flesh in record time
Without the feel of quick,
The way you spoke, so sublime
I'd envelope your stick.
The title of a 'Master'
Requires a man with skill,
One who's versed in how to fuck
And work his heated drill.
One more thing that I must add
Before I take my leave,
The Lord and Master of my loins
Must shut his mouth or grieve.
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