I feel the softest finger end
Caress my every lip
Drifting wildly until I bend
To bite its very tip
As it fondles sweet sensations
My mouth opens so wide
Then I welcome the flirtations
Flooding from all sides
Moistened inches in and out
To pour my skin with sin
From my swirling water's spout
Each finger's lingering
Now, so warm and very wet
With dripping nectar flow
To my hidden treasure chest
They ripple as they go
But, before they reach the spot
I hear a busy tone
The line just drops, now there is not
A woman on the phone
And so, the truths to me converse
How could I've not known?
These randy fingers are not hers
And, they are my own!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
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