a study toward sonnet #1,300 by FisherKingKQJ
3.10.07 (xxiii)
I scarcely sense him sliding in me at all,
He's far too saccharine, contests my taste,
His knuckles tickle me beneath my waist,
I want a bouncing boobs and testes maul.
Blunt as I am, I'd like to ask with gall,
If his previous girlfriend was cherished chaste,
An off the rack, arriviste-cut-and-paste,
In love, how can a person plan to fall?
It's my fault to foster him as psychic,
Soft lit bed rooms are a silly error,
Time for my grinding pyrrhic terror-
My hand guides his, shows how to his shy chic.
Take me splayed up on the coffee table,
Harder, faster, you're by half more able.
(Chorus)
o $10,000,000 table
o $10,000,000 bench
o $10,000,000 desk
[Autocube3 - for 3d interactive movies.]
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