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Click hereWhat is in a woman’s mind
That prompts her to extend her hand
To feel the petals of her flower
Releasing wells of lust?
Does her fantasy begin
With visions of the rigid stem
So full of seed which she desires
To fill her vault within?
Could it be the kiss so moist
Which fan the flames of her desire
For lusts intoxicating wine
And quench her thirst awhile?
Surely this scenario
Includes her nipples which are taut
Inviting lovers puckered lips
And teased teeth and tongue
She herself may crave the breast
And knead the heaving fleshy mounds
Of lady partner that she lusts
With wanton dreams of fire
Head of penis in her mouth
May be the unmet taste she craves
Or female counterpart of cock
In vulvar wetness drenched
What an inflamed woman thinks
Is quite rhetorical I think
For the result is still the same
which soon she will repeat
Often, sometimes, will she cum
With jolting spasms, not a few;
The satiation of her itch
defies to be subdued
wonderfully descriptive without being pornography. It hit what I missed in my poem - "in a world of her own" Very nicely done.