MY HARVEST
My tongue slapped the flesh left and right,
punishing it's owner for making me
tarry this long.
Harvest now here, I cut my wheat with ardor
Hands threatening to enbald me,
Yanked off my mane tuft by tuft
As she squirmed in ecstasy
Her moans seductive as Satan's whisper
My name became a litany to her
And I basked in the glory of her worship
Her flood gates burst open
And it was San Andreas
I breathed in her fluids, and part of
her exist in my lungs
She made me and the True me stand tall
Her tongue recognized the true me,
And into Nirvana she threw me
She took me in so deep I touch her soul
And feel her heart
Judge me not, for you were absent
When I sowed my seeds
When I watered them with the sweat of my labor
When they blossomed
When my harvest tarried like the Second Advent
The wait is over,
The wait she regrets putting me in
We exist now, in sexual Satori
This is my lot, and I am Shylock with it
YOU ARE READING
My Harvest
PoetryThis story is about oral sex between an almost frustrated guy who finally got lucky after his advances and the finally yielding girl. This write up is in parlance with the adage 'hardwork pays'. Hahaha.
