The North of Hum

On turning to the North of Hum
and taking one more sip of rum
she'd pop another button plum
and flip it open as she'd cum.

And finally when she'd slipped aside
every stitch so's not to hide
she turned and bid me touch inside
the deepest chasm of her pride.

When then at last I'd tarried there
she brought my head down to just where
her fingers had then played to dare
to mix her central angle bare

and when she'd made the wasted wait
her flinching saddled reeling rate
revolved and reveled as a trait
of those who often masturbate.

And finally sighing moan and tone
giving signal bone to bone
coaxing open raw back prone
came the wet orgasm's clone.

runningturtle87