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deepundergroundpoetry.com
Room Service
A warm, salty breeze gently caresses the bedsheets,
already damp with secretions of lust.
I watch her undressing in the bathroom mirror,
enamored by the sight of her silky black hair.
The soft tone of her breasts hangs like ripe fruit,
waiting to be pinched by my fingers.
I'm already aroused by her fishnet stockings.
Enticing me to delve between her dewy thighs.
She's nudging me for attention.
Pleading with me to feast on her sloppy cunt.
Of course, I naturally oblige,
wedging a firm finger
into her sweet little anus.
Such a deviant intrusion,
making her toes curl with ecstasy,
as we soak in a puddle
of bodily emissions.
Surrendering her soul to mine.
already damp with secretions of lust.
I watch her undressing in the bathroom mirror,
enamored by the sight of her silky black hair.
The soft tone of her breasts hangs like ripe fruit,
waiting to be pinched by my fingers.
I'm already aroused by her fishnet stockings.
Enticing me to delve between her dewy thighs.
She's nudging me for attention.
Pleading with me to feast on her sloppy cunt.
Of course, I naturally oblige,
wedging a firm finger
into her sweet little anus.
Such a deviant intrusion,
making her toes curl with ecstasy,
as we soak in a puddle
of bodily emissions.
Surrendering her soul to mine.
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