Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Jan 2013
Babe, now I become the hunted.
When you wiggle your buttocks
in such taste, to the slow peeling
of the thong, uncovering those
honey-tubes wet in desire, I die
in my knees: girl, now I can resist
no more, this groin-pang to plug
that ***** damp gaping blank.
Can anyone resist the call of the ****?
Jimmy Kerr
Written by
Jimmy Kerr
Please log in to view and add comments on poems