Horses Hoofs Poem by James McLain

Stuffing his the face with her sass again.
Worked the hand more, milking it,
the only sound in the room now the
squish-squish of horses hoofs as they come
around the mountain once again.
Worked them and his muffled
grunts is the sweaty clamp of her wet sass.
Minutes passed,
shooting other stars from her mouth massage.
Devouring
his entire the sky the milky way, white her face.
The hand worked,
the linear saw back and forth and muscle of her forearm
dancing under milk-white skin.
A thick layer of coco nut cream lathered up like
foam between her knuckles as the head bobbed,
bobbed Malina, 'against her wrist. It
took this much, 'hard time,
but she worked hard for his money and his eye balls
turning yellow, such a dog
He was,
babbling straight up and down hot is her sass.