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1 At night, liquid moonlight, ********** pools of delight in his front yard garden, he watches in silence with his girl on his side for long moments, like a caged beast still wild at heart,                   badly wanting                   to break the bars                   that restricts. His hands involuntarily caress her soft supple curves, culminating the explorations with a blood tasting kiss, poetry to him is making love the beast quickly leaves his whole being becomes soft like hot wax and starts to flow, she receives his music through his dancing fingers that speak to her a refined language of love then,        a                symphony                                   rains... rocked in a wave of pleasure she sobs softly like the whisper of silk he rushes towards her deep center beyond the soft folds that yields twists and in to her drains his wishes she is full of love,        enough to drown him in to its vortex.       she bites him hard on his lips,       like a big cat, she draws blood       love in it's expressed cruelty wears a  masquerade       he enjoys the topsy-turvy delight.      2 Morning dawns hurriedly  in the planet of the apes, he wears his mask, regular before daybreak observing all necessary rituals, dance he has become ready for his daily grind a hack, a hatchet man, a **** sometimes a crook without even a wee bit of consciousness or conscience his hatchet is his flute, he plays on as he walks.
0
Jun 18, 2014
Jun 18, 2014 at 11:46 AM UTC
Two faces
1 At night, liquid moonlight, ********** pools of delight in his front yard garden, he watches in silence with his girl on his side for long moments, like a caged beast still wild at heart,                   badly wanting                   to break the bars                   that restricts. His hands involuntarily caress her soft supple curves, culminating the explorations with a blood tasting kiss, poetry to him is making love the beast quickly leaves his whole being becomes soft like hot wax and starts to flow, she receives his music through his dancing fingers that speak to her a refined language of love then,        a                symphony                                   rains... rocked in a wave of pleasure she sobs softly like the whisper of silk he rushes towards her deep center beyond the soft folds that yields twists and in to her drains his wishes she is full of love,        enough to drown him in to its vortex.       she bites him hard on his lips,       like a big cat, she draws blood       love in it's expressed cruelty wears a  masquerade       he enjoys the topsy-turvy delight.      2 Morning dawns hurriedly  in the planet of the apes, he wears his mask, regular before daybreak observing all necessary rituals, dance he has become ready for his daily grind a hack, a hatchet man, a **** sometimes a crook without even a wee bit of consciousness or conscience his hatchet is his flute, he plays on as he walks.
k-balachandran
Written by
Jun 18, 2014
Jun 18, 2014 at 11:46 AM UTC
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