The men I adore are full of fascinating discoveries,
unparalleled inventions, so interestingly creative
and detail-oriented, innovative, independent,
influential, and impressive.  I admire their inspiring
diction, their intuitive minds, so dapper and dashing,
so handsomely molded and well-spoken, the kind of men
that makes you fall their amazing aura, every cell
of their muscular vessel.  They are so increasingly
deep, a bright boldness of affection caressing my skin
on the warmest days when the sunlight shimmers
in the sky-blue scenery.  Their eyes are so spellbinding,
their lips so seductively juicy, their chest so impressively
flexing, the way their swag splashes in my system,
the way their arms are so hot and solid, their muscles
so robust and enough.  They have the phattest *****,
so bootylicious, blooming, breathtaking, a masterpiece
of passion so massively appealing, big bulldozer boys,
daddy **** so thick, making it hard for me to breathe,
humongous monster hanging, the head so pleasant,
the ***** so enthralling, wanting to ******* it all,
taste their manly pleasures, their whole ocean of sleekly
sweet scenes.  Envelop me in their deepest treasures,
let me feel their static electricity, let me smell
their cologne, Ethika boxers, and socks, let me
lick their tattoos, become ***** with ****** urges.
I want to enter their dreams, stream in their sereneness,
cuddle up in their man kingdom, massage their ******
skin, so covered in their florescent frequency, their pure,
milky magic, basking in their masculine *******.