Sounding the Wet Walls of Propaganda


89

First tell me your secret wish
How your lashes burn on my skin
Your little hands tab my dynamic points
Like circular chiropractic motions

I ask you where you want to go
You tell me with a naked sigh
You want the journey of the flesh
The progress of lust to the twenty-first century

First tell me your secret spot
Where orgasm plays a propaganda
Of feminine charm so covert
You make me smile through my teeth

As I advance upon your instance
And you open up like a cherry religion
Of softness, melted heat and little extravagance
You beg me now, we’ve been here before.

Photo: http://browse.deviantart.com/art/Angela-370044226