Fantasy Vi
M
Mark R Slaughter
0
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Bum-hills:
Ride of butt'ry skin! -
Such beauty-sin,
Sliding down a buttock.
Now, at crack base
Another chase
Perambulates the mind -
And so I seek
Thro' ruddy cheek
Another fair behind;
But I am spoilt.
At eye-limit:
Brain waves assimilate the view,
Contrive a land of breast-alps
Pouting at the sky -
Nipple-sirens calling -
Porn-blue air obliging,
And echoes -
Flitting girl-calls
Share the bounce ‘n flounce -
Their frantic lines glancing
Off the flesh-heights
(Ever had a sound-wave massage?) -
Botty-ripples playing.
They cry for me:
'O climb for me
And hail the highest mound -
See? I bare the cherry-best,
And coupled with an open thigh
Across the woman-moistened ground,
You've not a need for any breast -
Heav'n quintessentially found.'
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