A mixtape for parkour

Her hair shimmers like the folds of a curtain before a theatrical stage, her smiles light up her suitors like snowy town squares by glowing lamp light, her milky, pillowy butt hiding her dirt and psychic stains like the shadows amidst the fir trees and rocks along a pathway.

Walking naked among church pews. Shadows going out with the wind among candles.

Her cheeks bloom in the winter air,
ruddy like plump pears over the
tendril like curves of her back
and ass

   Boulders          Alcove
              Spray
                            La Mar
       Iced Coffee


Her lush viper's tongue playing with the
demure pig-tailed girl's crinkled
asshole; sending shudders through her
quaking thighs and on her harried breath.

-- Footfalls amidst the undergrowth of ivy and dry fern leaves.

Her eyes gleam with silver like a mermaid lashed to the wood grain of a ship's prow. Callused fingers brush among the gleaming strands lining her neck.

Sticky
    scented
nipples
    on the
taut frame
   of the Asian
runner

Fur garlands her labia,
plush folds like a sea
anenome for the mango
thick penis and heavy
balls of the model in a
thick coat. Their shuddering
breaths leaving winter vapors
in the alleyway.

 - Crevices among volcanic ash. An arched foot. His beard needling her curving cheek.

Scintillating brush of her leggings over
her sweet curves, perfuming the air with
the musk of her wolf's den, luscious cum
and menstrual blood agitated in diving down
and up from air at the cliff's edge, his sabre
glistening with sap dripping and dappling the
texture of her tongue..

A stalk of bamboo. Vacant gaze. Catching a reflection of yourself in a window at the same time you see the patron of a restaurant.

The trees calming tendrils fan my
aching limbs, full of swollen midnight
beats & forgotten tracks of graffiti on
the backs of my eyelids. The rain water
gathers along the cracks and carvings
of concrete.

The
      branches
 of
            his
appendage
      tossing among
the lilting
            tendrils
of her
      milk
    curds

My liquid expiation in front de tes yeux,
the shudders through my hips salting the
air like smoke. Thatched with bamboo,
a tent where cisterns of nectar and spice
are passed among bent legs.
    
           Placid
    face
            of the Middle Eastern
                        woman
      as she tussles
among
      her child's clothes
Ruffles
                  the feathers
                    of
                   her
            boyfriend's
                  perineum

Rays of light of constellations
vibrating against the eyes; fire
swirls among the footfalls of her
jaunting butt. Fairies and genies
gather to taste her fountain's placid
zest. Her skirt trailing rainbows
and los colmillos de una serpiente.

Her lips glisten like the gauze, silks,
and gold inseams of her ribboned top,
the mounds of her cleavage shaking
as she places a butt plug before me
that magnetizes to the sanded
marble at it's base.

      Rinsed
    over;
      the
spongy
                    oyster
             texture
            of
                her
         navel.

Arabian mistress among
vapors of midnight; the rote
pattern of frogs croaking
that becomes louder at the
glass of the window. My
hand on the inside of your
thigh.

   Vortexing
       curves         under
her frayed
  shirt;
      that
       she
      slept
         in;
 that
          makes
her
    spittle
            taste
of cinnamon
      and myrrh.

A feline grace from her tiptoes
to the sweet pores and clefts
along her ankle, like gold carved
in a filigreed pattern on stone.
Her ass stretched taut in her
nylon shorts, she dashes among
the rafters of glass and metal
and dust. Her hands gripping
gold rings and hanging fabric
the color of fog.

  Looking
      at
           her
      beau
 necking
       with
            her
  friend

Asian putita frigging the basalm of cum amidst the musk of his glans and ass.

Blissed out sensations as she spreads
her flared ass cheeks pulling up her
jacket as she sighs in a stretch, curving
of thong, cakes that pat against shimmering
leggings, a lake in syrupy moonlight,
spindly like creases, highlighting the plush,
pearly texture of ripe skin to skin, deserving
worship and musky sin.
                  Tears are how I tell you
                  my blood rushes at your
                  touch.