deepundergroundpoetry.com
His Pants
When I think of him
I think of his pants sweeping his thighs
The caressing of the silk
Relaxes him
Then
the material surrounds his length
Touching further the tip of his shaft
The wind blows
making it grow and
roll back and forth
As he walks
it rises and hardens
making love to the seams
Damn I wish I was his pants
I think of his pants sweeping his thighs
The caressing of the silk
Relaxes him
Then
the material surrounds his length
Touching further the tip of his shaft
The wind blows
making it grow and
roll back and forth
As he walks
it rises and hardens
making love to the seams
Damn I wish I was his pants
Published 11th Aug 2011
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Anonymous
- Edited 11th Aug 2011 2:37pm
11th Aug 2011 2:36pm
perfect words to go with that perfect pic
Anonymous
11th Aug 2011 5:09pm
You are making me wish for a windy day!
"making love to the seams"
So that's why they wear out so fast. LOL!!!
Enjoyed.
tornado
"making love to the seams"
So that's why they wear out so fast. LOL!!!
Enjoyed.
tornado
