fall is cumming

unmistakable, the raunchy scent of female musk permeates the thick air

deceptively wanton, clean, natural, filthy, begging for the soured sweat,

the pumping throb of ejaculation, to foul it’s perfect bouquet into a sexual bog

fecund and rich, trails of slime leave shiny snail paths along glistening thighs

as if my cunt was your garden and your cock the stamen which pollinated it

you need to immerse yourself, plunging into the dirty filth of me to heal erotically

surrounded by the wafting vapors and salacious scents of mans creation

churning inside of your tightening ballsack until you spew your pungent snot

into the miasma of fluids sluicing between us like a sudden deluge of rain

This entry was posted in Poems, Sex and tagged , , . Bookmark the permalink.

7 Responses to fall is cumming

  1. kdaddy23 says:

    Cold shower time again… damn, woman…

  2. Ned's Blog says:

    There is definitely something about the fall. Maybe it’s the new crispness in the air, the colors and the anticipation of warm fires and heavily blanketed beds on lazy mornings. Whatever the reason, I know that the leave aren’t the only things getting turned and blown this time of year…

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