Francisromantic
Literotica Guru
- Joined
- Jul 22, 2006
- Posts
- 874
Your poetry inspires desires,
of breasts, my thinking never tires,
everything a man requires
Is held in her milk fountain;
That luscious fleshy mountain,
capped by such a tasty peak:
It makes my knees so weak,
I kneel in raptful adoration,
with just this expectation:
please hold your nipples out to me
with tasty generosity,
so beautiful to look and see,
so wonderful to kiss and cup,
as I adore them, looking up...
of breasts, my thinking never tires,
everything a man requires
Is held in her milk fountain;
That luscious fleshy mountain,
capped by such a tasty peak:
It makes my knees so weak,
I kneel in raptful adoration,
with just this expectation:
please hold your nipples out to me
with tasty generosity,
so beautiful to look and see,
so wonderful to kiss and cup,
as I adore them, looking up...
MilkFountain said:BY GENEROUSITY IS A WOMAN KNOWN
Cushiony, welcome playing fields of fleshy delight they are . . .
Full-bodied mouth-and-hands full,
And sometimes erotically bizarre—
Exaggerated to raise libidos to the peak.
I do love them aerobicised, well-exercised and sleek,
But be they not sparsely-draped skeletons
Or hard towers of artificially-enhanced meat!
I do love the generosity of flesh that sways,
Judders, shudders, slews and says . . .
That though sometimes the vision wavers,
Leaving fleeting images fixed in mind,
Her full body’s bend is forever poised to spring,
A bounty of prominences that promises to sting,
But then to kiss and make a lover's body sing.
Her generosity inflames a man through his eyes,
Her woman’s curves contoured by dark and light,
Framed by clothing, whether loose or tight;
Creating fleeting images just right
For daylight dalliance or rage of lust by night.
No angles here, no shock,
Her shadowed entries and glowing rises
Assurances of eager reception
Whether the questing touch is rough or light,
When her suitor has her secrets in sight
And overwhelms her with surprise and delight.
He then savors bighearted swell of hip and breast,
Liberal flesh swept by whim of opportunity,
Her body no longer shying from possibility,
Her heart, though long an inhibited well of lust . . .
Become a nest of eager trust.
Over is her wait
For the circumstance that ignites,
Makes of warmth a blaze,
She offers mount, mound and basin—
Opens every seething, salivating maw,
Lifts hips, breast and mouth . . .
To exploring probe and thrusting jab
To plunge, thrust and stab.
I love the generosity of woman,
The swell, the spill and sag.
I love the reward to my eyes
Of a woman’s supple way,
That as she turns,
Her suggestive image is a flag,
The cape a bull cannot ignore,
Her body a taunt for men to gore.
I love a woman's generosity.
