Tuesday, 6 September 2011

The trail

I can follow an ass like that anywhere.
Up an escalator,
through a crowded station concourse,
down a fuckin mineshaft.
I comet tail your heavenly path,
eclipsed at intervals by stuffy pencil necked city bankers,
your white linen clad majestic return ever the sweeter to my eager glare.
Plump ample cleft,
light bountiful volume,
delicate plumage.
To rest thy flushed cheek pon such a peach.
I need a wank.

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