Driving streets, screeched to a halt,
burning rubber on asphalt.
Cropped up hair and bug eyed goggles,
plenty here for the keen ogles.
Picked a dainty in her leather boots,
boasting a pair of awesome toots.
The gentle man is steeling up.
And she's ready with her cup.
Sensing blood on the dance floor.
O'dear stop by the corner store.
Downing loads of amber fills,
Jill's just squirmed up her frills.
Hurried fumble and a muttering nip.
Where the zip, now there a rip.
The groaning bed and the creeky lofts.
Plush satins and the heep of softs.
Both now breath less with the thrill.
Round and round in the churning mill.
Paws ands claws, they both at it.
To put in place whatever's fit.
Soon she is panting, gasping air.
The zealous energy of the pair.
Groaning and moaning throaty deep,
soon she crosses the cataclysmic steep.
He's dug his heels and pushing hard,
Screwed up face and rock scabbard.
As he writhes and hisses to the top.
How they wish it would never stop.
Original
090510
Buraidah-KSA
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem