Sonya loves
Paris streets
white French wine
fresh French food
and our room
with shutters
now open
allowing
sounds of night
to come in
I put down
my Russian
crime novels
as she lies
naked there
on the bed
some Bartok
on the white
radio
playing out
you ready?
She asks me
lying there
I'm ready
I tell her
turning off
the room light
making do
with street light
entering now
the wide bed
feeling her
beside me
her warm flesh
she kisses
her soft lips
kissing mine
her small hands
seeking out
my pecker
stirring up
the blood line
while my hands
explore her
plentiful
soft ripe fruits
her valleys
her taut peaks
someone speaks
in French tongue
from the white
radio
Bartok's gone
Bach begins
some music
Baroque stuff
we kiss hot
bodies move
to music
sounds invade
our memories
as we start
making love
with streets sounds
and lamp lights
and moon glow
and star shine
and waiting
afterwards
two glasses
with clear ice
of French wine.
Sep 14, 2016
Sep 14, 2016 at 3:40 AM UTC
Sonya loves
Paris streets
white French wine
fresh French food
and our room
with shutters
now open
allowing
sounds of night
to come in
I put down
my Russian
crime novels
as she lies
naked there
on the bed
some Bartok
on the white
radio
playing out
you ready?
She asks me
lying there
I'm ready
I tell her
turning off
the room light
making do
with street light
entering now
the wide bed
feeling her
beside me
her warm flesh
she kisses
her soft lips
kissing mine
her small hands
seeking out
my pecker
stirring up
the blood line
while my hands
explore her
plentiful
soft ripe fruits
her valleys
her taut peaks
someone speaks
in French tongue
from the white
radio
Bartok's gone
Bach begins
some music
Baroque stuff
we kiss hot
bodies move
to music
sounds invade
our memories
as we start
making love
with streets sounds
and lamp lights
and moon glow
and star shine
and waiting
afterwards
two glasses
with clear ice
of French wine.
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