Wading through the waves of cobble smoke
We've got another street fire

She's choking on at least a words worth
That's just about a mouthful

Taped off in the read area
She's within nervous vicinity

Press upon a hot spot
Never mind the irritation

Touch me is something you won't hear
Doesn't mean that she won't feel it

She makes dripping sounds
Like an old cave

A sharp pain only she has to deal with

I do the finger drag
and I'm the Moses of clit parting

A clinching hair pull
followed by a blue bonnet toss

Her muted screams can't travel fast enough through
rags and duct tape

In her silent agony you can only pray she's smiling

A once lusty lick is now just a tongue slap
Back when Regina Cottoncrotch
was part of the flower-core

Here's to a perfect bottom painted red
And a covered in candy chocolate fuck

I know you paste my head
on his pictures
I watch you from the ceiling

03/24/2008

Posted on 03/25/2008
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