Armand Miller

Rookie (July 15 / Chcago)

I Dont Speak French - Poem by Armand Miller

Walk up on the most gorgeous
Vision of beauty I've seen
That peaks my fetish needs
Having me crave her knees
To keep my head locked in between
So I walk up on her
And engage in conversation
A little verbal elation
That would cause stimulation
For later fornication
But she tries fighting me
Forcing me to do things
That would supply wonderful dreams
To any normal being
But she's not normal
For even when it's obvious she's horny
She'lll still ignore me
That is until she accepts it
I remember as if it were
The most important memory
Becasue to me
It represented true fantasy
Beyond pure imagining
The way her sexy black lace
That covered her sacred place
Fell to the ground, finally out the way
And she was already prepared for me
With her salivating
I went straight in
Loving the smell of her
Loving more that there was no fur
just me tongue kissing her
Satisfyign my desire
And calming her dripping fire
With each lick'
And each flcik
My tongue becomes slick
Off of her juices
And her moans come quick
As her legs twitch
And her lips clench
.... then release
And I was finished
Adding her to the list
Of thos that fell to my fetish

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Poem Submitted: Tuesday, May 15, 2012

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