Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Nov 2019
Your hands are bound,
You make no sound,
Other than a murmur.

I paint your skin,
With lips and sin,
Sense your rising fervour.

I lick your ****,
Your juicy slit,
Slide in my eager finger.

Sword drawn from sheath,
Pressed oh so deep,
Oh what sweet, sweet, pleasure
Written by
Andrew  41/M/Derby
(41/M/Derby)   
  1.2k
     Cné, Reena Choudhary and ---
Please log in to view and add comments on poems