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deepundergroundpoetry.com

Suck (curtal sonnet)
I feel his hand approach, but lie at rest,
Too sleepy to resist; let him reproach
Me for my dark blue kimono; he'd stress
His need for skin not silk; then he'll encroach
Upon my drifting form: the garment hid
My multitude of sins - the heated skin:
Brown may trump blue silky; so let the lid
Come off his jar of lust and, since, that tin
Is never to be closed 'til, satisfied,
He'll have his fill, and push my mouth open
As wide, as his cock needs; once he has pried
My wetted lips apart and presses in, then,
Caressing my sex slowly - what the fuck!
I woke; and he' ll say: "suck!"
Too sleepy to resist; let him reproach
Me for my dark blue kimono; he'd stress
His need for skin not silk; then he'll encroach
Upon my drifting form: the garment hid
My multitude of sins - the heated skin:
Brown may trump blue silky; so let the lid
Come off his jar of lust and, since, that tin
Is never to be closed 'til, satisfied,
He'll have his fill, and push my mouth open
As wide, as his cock needs; once he has pried
My wetted lips apart and presses in, then,
Caressing my sex slowly - what the fuck!
I woke; and he' ll say: "suck!"
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