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The Itch

Tags: itch
itch me
in the darkness of a hall
watch dogs I don't care about them at all
clothes let them fall
lay me down or stand tall
in the gym we work out the balls
so thick
and quick
we lick
Skip
those lips
around the roundness of my boobs

enrich me
let's race
victory chase
in this sweaty embrace
with no grace
with determined face
you are the ace
ditch me
my vulnerability with your needle
I am the flower you're the beetle
Itch me again
in slow motion hit me
every little bit
of this baby making poem is a hit
I like it

off the channel
I don't want to switch
wearing only your flannel
I come to ring your doorbell 
I absorb your manhood's musky smell
in your arms I fell
nasty naughty girl rebel
that I had this sex appeal nobody could tell
but my own is too expensive to sell
I don't do streets and bars and clubs and brothel
you could reserve us a room in a hotel
to push and pull the pleasure that dwells
inside the hole, a deep well
of a woman's body, a bombshell


This post first appeared on Poet's X-Files, please read the originial post: here

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The Itch

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