Breakfast In Bed.

"A quick morning poem, true to one of my most used and favourite styles."

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Laid, keen, thick thighs ajar, labia splayed,

like puffy baked goods with honey cream,
sweet fondant, white and addictive, alluring,
leering with eyes rolling in the humid fold,

a cold tongue on flesh controls the gasps,
huffed breath— warm skin pricked;
heavy breasts, loose and lying slumped,

thick, ripe nipple clamped and pinched,
supped at, licked and sucked, for milk
that never comes, yet soaks the slick cunt,

swollen, glazed like glossy finger buns, enticing.

Published 3 years ago

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