Puddle of Love on Hump day

Puddle of Love on Hump day

He has a body and smile that is nice,
The fire in our hearts melts the ice,
When we met our tears turned to a warm blush,
Our faces of frowns turned upside down, this is no crush.

She cannot stand still, her womanhood quivers, and flows
Like a flood of love in the rivers of rapids they rush,
This little man in the boat paddles the river of lust,
Flowers of lust bloom below the waterfall
Crashing between the searing hot and glistening thighs.

Run . . . run . . . run . . . into my bed we jump,
This isn’t a hump but a thrashing quest,
Satisfied with this men with skill,
She craves this baseball batter who can swing his stick
Like a pro, for an hour, for a night, a day, a week in bed,
We lose score of how many screams, rainstorms, and explosions.

Fight . . . fight . . . fight. . . we move like crashing waves,
Like sweaty boxers we battle, blood, sweat, slaves
To the lust, we drink fully, who cares if we behave,
We loved like a poisoned King and Queen frantically searching for the antidote.

We sleep . . . sleep . . . sleep in a puddle of love on Hump Day,
Rolling, trashing, we attack again,
In our dreams, awakened again, splash
A wet dream drives our bodies crashing.