Monday, 5 November 2012

Love. The Sexual Kind.

Love. The Sexual Kind.

Morning glory,
Yes this is a real story.
I smell your scent,
Warm, lazy and copulent.
From a night of wild,
Crazy passion.
A dance, a play,
We got our end,
Away in the fury of,
Fuzzy feeling and,
Release of gold.
Do you still,
Feel the potion,
Cradle you,
As I release,
My lasting token of desire?

Sweaty and slick,
My pulse is quick,
You suck my,
Ardour into life,
And know,
The fires glow,
A weeping show,
Your golden flow.
Beneath you,
I ride true,
Deep within,
You and then,
When I buck,
You feel my craving,
For you reach the peak,
Nipples I tweak,
Slap hand on cheek,
Skin palpitating and sleek,
Your body flops,
Becoming weak,
So Chic......

An Original poem by Guilhem Du Mas.

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