Tailors Poem by Marinela Christel

Your hand does slither under my skirt
And feels for seams and smooth effects
As I shuffle and shift and flirt
With fabrics on your bolt’s defects.

I part my legs and sway my hips
And your hands trace the contour
As I release and open clips
Of some delights du jour…

Your face lights up and sweats
And your knees dig in the floor
As I am searching the assets
Of someone I could, might adore…

I step much closer to the tape
And you are stretching your arms
As I am fingering the crepe
And take delight in your charms.

“You pricked me! ” I do cry and pout
And you place your lips to mine
As I am looking for bailout
And you’re behaving asinine…

“Please do take your high heels off”
I hear you say and watch you bulge.
I hold the pincushion and I scoff
At fantasy I might indulge.

“ Only if you come closer still”
I murmur and take out a pin.
I plunge it deep in your cacodyl
And slowly lick bufotoxin.

“Phew! ” I spit and wipe my face
And you sigh deep and wince.
“ Under your gown all made of lace
I think I found your prince! ”

Curiously I look and my dismay
Hits strongly right at home.
My measurements are on display
And this one’s made of chrome!