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deepundergroundpoetry.com
A different kind of mean
He strokes my hair and reassures me that
My efforts for him are rarely in vain;
His tugging of my locks feels like a pack
Of never-ending subtle shocks; I gain
From his sensual passions; let these course
To my cunt as he pulls me closer still;
My pussy touches cock - I feel the force
As our parts interlock; I know he'll spill
His cum with assured ease, and loneliness
Is pushed away; our skins and souls connect
As he's aroused and sighs: the sounds caress
My hidden, inner thoughts, that just perplex
Me half the time; but he knows how to care
For every one of them - he strokes my hair...
My efforts for him are rarely in vain;
His tugging of my locks feels like a pack
Of never-ending subtle shocks; I gain
From his sensual passions; let these course
To my cunt as he pulls me closer still;
My pussy touches cock - I feel the force
As our parts interlock; I know he'll spill
His cum with assured ease, and loneliness
Is pushed away; our skins and souls connect
As he's aroused and sighs: the sounds caress
My hidden, inner thoughts, that just perplex
Me half the time; but he knows how to care
For every one of them - he strokes my hair...
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