The Life and Death Of It

What would you do? If in the early mourn before dew,
You find a man without life lying next to you,
However, it would seem his veined shaft was still a full mast,
It would be such the waste, if I left hurried, in haste,
How could I not show care or leave his tool to be spared,
For the task is at hand for I was in such demand,
It could have been I, who caused this man's demise,
For such are the life and the death of it.
Like a syringe in my eye to my utter surprise,
That I wore the disguise, for I too may have died,
His name be John Vast with his magnificent shaft,
A huge cock he bestowed leaving ladies aglow,
For I was his love of the eleven inch club,
Not for him, he was heartless and cruel,
'Twas I, who would go, to and fro, to and fro,
I wondered why you were quiet and not loud,
I believed it your way saying you were proud,
You're still here in bed I kiss your gentle lips,
I knew not you died in the night I am so remiss,
The joy is not spent as I live to repent,
Because your shaft is alive and still risen,
I climb up on top, to satisfy my spot, until you are given,
A sigh does rise from your lips imagine my surprise,
Although last night I fucked you dead,
This early mourn I fucked you back alive,
I must take a bow or curtsy somehow my sex not only takes life,
It revives it as well, to my sweet joyous delight
And so it's the Life and the Death of It,
The man, the cock, the myth,
It was so perfect when it was stiff,
Yet, 'twas I had to make it spit....
Now I will have to wait a bit or quit,
I wonder how I ever made it fit,
Eleven inches is no easy shit.

Author: Felatia Allday