Hello Poetry
Submit your work and get some sparkles! Create free account
Miss Pinkie (she had dropped the Mrs after her divorce) undressed slowly she was an older and plumper version of Marie Antoinette I lay on her bed looking at her disrobe so why did you leave the convent? I asked things happen she said you realize what you are missing or will miss the moon was held in the corner of her bedroom window like a fresh minted coin and what was that? what was what? what was it you were missing or feared you might miss? children marriage *** she said plunging on her side of the bed and I have my son and maybe a grandchild one day she turned towards me her big blue eyes searching me I smiled she had a similarity to a hippo sunbathing on a river bank Mahler was playing from her Hi-Fi in the lounge she put a hand on her hip her ******* moved like piglets at play sure you don't want another drink? she asked no I’m fine she ran a finger along my thigh my pecker stirred from its slumber her fingers walked along my groin her nails were bright red she had the kind of touch that could have raised Lazarus from the dead.
0
Oct 25, 2014
Oct 25, 2014 at 9:30 AM UTC
MISS PINKIE'S TOUCH.
Miss Pinkie (she had dropped the Mrs after her divorce) undressed slowly she was an older and plumper version of Marie Antoinette I lay on her bed looking at her disrobe so why did you leave the convent? I asked things happen she said you realize what you are missing or will miss the moon was held in the corner of her bedroom window like a fresh minted coin and what was that? what was what? what was it you were missing or feared you might miss? children marriage *** she said plunging on her side of the bed and I have my son and maybe a grandchild one day she turned towards me her big blue eyes searching me I smiled she had a similarity to a hippo sunbathing on a river bank Mahler was playing from her Hi-Fi in the lounge she put a hand on her hip her ******* moved like piglets at play sure you don't want another drink? she asked no I’m fine she ran a finger along my thigh my pecker stirred from its slumber her fingers walked along my groin her nails were bright red she had the kind of touch that could have raised Lazarus from the dead.
A YOUNG MAN AND AN OLDER WOMAN IN 1973.
terry-collett
Written by
Oct 25, 2014
Oct 25, 2014 at 9:30 AM UTC
Request permission to use this poem