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Monday, November 3, 2014

Hush, Puppies

Smiling from their cosy nest,
two puppies rise and fall with her every breath,
bursting to escape, they taunt
' You'd like to feel our peachy warmth? '

Their mistress asks, 'Will that be all, sir? '
(Sir - condescending title used in shops)
I fix upon her eyes, but risk a look.
She gives a smile of tantric torture,
her wares denied yet wantonly displayed.

Those magnets draw another glance
into their force field of desire.
'Goodbye, ' they giggle in confinement,
'tonight she'll let the master stroke us.'
Patrick Ladbrooke
Topic(s) of this poem: lust
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1/23/2021 11:55:52 AM # 1.0.0.425