The 4th Round. Poem by Peya Jakob

Here we are, tired, and worn out.
The last few hours are what pleasure is about.
That victoria secret, will be our little secret.
And they dont know why we keep drying our bed set..
And why i keep calling you wet wet.
I'm almost too tired to move, -my want for you i cant hide
you just step over me-sit on it and go for one more ride.
Slowly and with deliberate sashays,
we make love for all the lost days
you softly moan as your eyes start to roll,
and watching you come is the sweetest pleasure of all.