Moist Wet Panties Poem by James McLain
Moist Wet Panties
In the darkness of the dresser drawer,
where silk and cotton lie, folded still,
the fabric of her secret waits,
damp with the memory of a body's heat.
A lover's breath, soft on her ear,
a kiss that lingered past the silk—
became moist dew, the center in-between.
Moistness from the night before,
And in the morning, the sun rose,
but his scent remained, of what she'd done..
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9/17/2024 8:45:06 PM # 1.0.0.1119
