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Feb 2013
Steamy hot lazy summer day,
Layin' around, not much to say.

No surprise and not by chance,
Is the thought of you in skintight pants.

Is it midday? It got real warm,
No, just a reaction to the upcoming storm.

Not here are you, but it matters little,
I will play my member, just like a fiddle.

My thoughts of you burning desire,
My manliness climbs higher and higher.

Sensual lips pressed up against mine,
Tasting better than a classic wine.

Your southern lips they burn like fire,
As I stroke them, soon we will sire.

I place my lips to the burning mound,
And kiss and tease, you fall to the ground.

I climb upon you and hear you say,
"Wait a minute, I have a better way."

You climb upon me and rock and ******,
Until my body turns to powdered dust.

We lay together and fall a sleep,
Secret is our *** I can keep.

The next thing I know I open my eyes,
And you are before me, to my surprise.

"Hi honey, how was your day?"
I grab you and tell you, "it went this way."

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Paul Morgana
Written by
Paul Morgana  Merrick, NY
(Merrick, NY)   
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