WHAT HANGS DOWN....

'What hangs down....must stand up!
Let me give you a cup!'
she said, sliding her hand,
squeezing where it did land.
As tip touched palm I sprout,
fingers draw my length out
as they wind round my shaft,
move foreskin fore-and-aft.
She crouches, kissing tip.
'Like acorn!' is her quip.
Her tongue plays in its slit,
Feeling in stomach pit
makes me instinctive flex
my tum muscles and pecs
and then start to relax
as her mouth gently tracks
down the whole length of me,
now so pertly perky
until her throat I'm in,
my balls against her chin.
Her tongue massages round
my shaft. There comes a sound
as I groan responding,
'Time you gave a wanding
with your magical stick',
she tells me about Dick
when she'd disengaged mouth
from its antics down south.
She told me to sit back
on bed as she did track,
kissing a way northbound,
moving her breasts around
until they reached my stem,
which she squeezed between them.
Up and down they rubbed it,
put me in bucking fit.
The smooth skin of her chest
lured me to do the rest -
yes, she let me fuck them,
until my pearly cum
sprayed on her open lips
and on her chest in drips.