I Had My Fill

Touching my tears, darling excretion, from me, to be with.
I am glad in sadness to have these friends crawl and burrow into my skin.

Chosen girl, the naughty freak with the cum on her cheeks.
Will you be back to the hill on moonlit?

He's so hard on you.
Red Indian blush dick-slapped like you wanted
as he gets his token of you.
And you want his relief riding mid-chest.

But I couldn't touch you.

That devilish grin when you tell a dirty joke sucks the ridges till dry white crests of the same mountain.

Tell the guy who never had sex with you how much you enjoy these man hands above
prying through your hair and feeling up and around your breasts so close to your heart.
You can't think. He nipped your hear.
He massaged your temples free.

I couldn't think when you hugged me the other day.
Your body is so warm. Soft, innocent,
a Turner Classic Movie with two friends.

Satellites from below for his alien mouth
at first contact.

I give up. I'll just...
Your wide eyes and tickling interest when you jump into me.
Not like that.
But like you've never felt better in your life.

His compliment is your willingness to do and be loved.

He'll ram and ram right in you.
You'll feel like it's his soul punching in
through your walls.

My baby with secret experience.
I don't think of eros.
Or choking you out with a smirk
that you need to see to give others pleasure.

I don't know if it is so numb as I think.
Maybe one drink out of a spring
that leaves you droughted and he gives the empty spring its water back
with mouth liquid on the button that ties you off from the river.

It makes your hendges break.
But he only gives what he would take.

I can't believe I can't write an erotic poem for you anymore.
I pray you holy in my arms.

Never strip an angel. Let the angel clip its own wings.
Then she's meant to live on earth.

Childhood friend.
Childhood crush.

But they told me, "Never rush."