deepundergroundpoetry.com

Seed Scattered Upon Fertile Ground (an ode to her �Twin Peaks�)

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�.....good seeds don't grow on barren ground�-Bruce Hornsby
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place my feet upon her fertile mound
standing high upon the top
of her beautiful twin peaks
nipple-tips tower high into the night time sky
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waiting for my hot seed to spill upon the white girl's chest
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her body draws closer
moving across the plains
reaching forth her hands to me
calling out my name
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grasping hold
warm, full and firm
squeezing hard and pulling
my maddening pleasure
in the hopes �
that my seed fall
�� upon the ground 'pon
her rich, creamy mountain peaks
�
lucky, lucky me
�
stroking and pulling
the lobcock until �
swollen and stiff
her face flushed
head thrown back
mouth a gasp.....
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�..faster and faster �
she tips my quill as my
darkened whirlygigs
gather forth their fill
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erupting like �
a hot summer rain
droplets roll down
her orbs deep into �
the lushness of
her most intimate valleys
�
hot spurts until spent, drenched
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she quivers and convulses
writhing and rubbing her �
quim in delight
I bury my staff
between her alabaster thighs
grinding, prigging
the wild beast from morning
till the edge of night.....
�
�..with my feet �
placed upon
the grandeur of her twin peaks
hot seed drip down upon
nipple-tips
�� towering into �
�� the night time sky
�
�
�