It's so deep, and juicy too,
But I can fill it,
With eight plus two.
I'll need a comb to part that hair,
Comb it aside,
Watch it lay bare.
Then in I go into the deep,
Wet and warm,
Riches to reap.
In and out, you squirm around,
Moving your butt,
On the warm spring ground.
Then you explode and it curls your toes,
And shake and shiver,
Lost in the throes.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem