Tough Woman, Loving Man

Coronal Ms. Lady, as tough as ice,
subzero touch trickling down my chest and my goosebumps.

There are some women, you just don't know.
Volcanic liquid meets the open wintery sea.
Shouting sizzles,
we meet at shore.

Lava touch snatches up the artic hand, and volcanic lips bite the chilling lips.

No one lives a life alone. Life is only lived down the middle.
Chests press together till our chestnuts erect and swole stiff.

Frenzily I carouse the Greenland earth with wide arms sprawled out and shivering up and down her back,
and a kiss of many kisses
finds us down the other's throat,
and the nakedness bub-bub-bubbling the apparel away.

Lost in her Artic Circle,
carousing again, searching again
with my mouth
running over her nipples and down her navel,
carousing, searching her Arctic Circle
with my saliva.

Shout! Sizzle, sizzle, boom!

The ice caps melt away into a sensation hopping onto my tongue.

Perfumed body of water all around, she lies.
I stare into the reflection of the stars and lay myself ontop of her,
and we stay there, volcanic rock between us, sealing us together.

She cools me. I titillate her true self.
Coronal Ms. Lady, lady of my arms,
bing-bang bang-bang boom boda.
Buxom body and fleshy at penetration. Long, bodacious lover.

I,
Lord, I want to be inside of you.
You don't have to be so strong anymore; I have you;
I have you.