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Image for the poem A Matter of Taste

A Matter of Taste

He says that he likes her taste
Licks her until she screams
He proceeds, but not in haste
It's her pleasure, it seems
She may buck but he holds on
His tongue flicking at her lips
She ululates like devil's spawn
As his own reason slips
She says that she likes his flavor
Her mouth descending on his cock
A massive organ to savor
And she could suck him 'round the clock
Their preference is sixty nine
And I can't help but stare
As their voyeur pouring out the wine
While they proceed with flair.
Written by crowfly
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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