Her nipples, corks for opened bottles of wine

Mustaches glared and knew she is high

Competing, whispering: “the lady is mine”

The black one curled to impress with its dark glitter

The gray, veteran in temptation, thought itself fitter

The brown was licked by its nether lip with a sound so sly

The auburn sieved by its senses was silent and shy

The blonde preened its feathers and said “I!”

But the buds ogled a distant bare chin

With cheekbones so frail and thin

It had no hair, all soft and young

She craved to ribbon it with her tongue

She knew she can choose her meal as she wish

And Ganymedes were her favorite dish:

“Not only hairy chests want to pluck that flower,

I too want to be first to top the tower!”


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1 comment so far

  1. greenreams on

    I am delighted that you are pleased with it

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