There's nothing to equal the sight
Of a young lady, in the moon's light,
As she unclips her tresses
And slowly undresses,
To show you'll be all right tonight.

Folk often go on 'bout the touch
Of velvet or silk  or some such,
That's all hype and spin,
A young lady's skin
Can give to a man pleasure, much.

There's nothing that tastes so delicious
As a young lady's quim, when lubricious,
Too bad that the smell
May not please so well
Unless you're enamoured of fishes.

There's nothing that beats the sweet tone
Of a young lady's orgasmic moan,
As you finish your ride
And on mattress subside,
As also does what was your bone.

More barrel scrapings

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Friday, July 27, 2007