Across The Pond

Every morning I awake to find a poem
That tickles my fancy and curls my toes
Wonderful words to titillate
He casts out passion and I take the bait
I read his words and touch myself
When I’m finished they get put upon my shelf
I take them out when I’m alone
Then sit secluded and read his poem
His stanzas are kinky and rouse my desires
His words begin to light my fire
I imagine us doing the things on paper
Then remember them for the dreams that I have later
His hands and mouth caressing me
Oh, how I wish that this could be
Bringing me to heights above the clouds
I caress myself then scream out loud
I sometimes wonder if he can hear my screams
In the passion he fuels inside our dreams
Of this poet I sure am fond  
Oh, how I wish I was across the pond
Written by Her
Author's Note
Thank you, Sir for inspiring my dreams.
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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averageJoe69 Wired6 moroccanpoet
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