“Under the Covers of Metaphors”
or "Clitoral Ecstasy"


Under the covers

Of metaphors

He bares his bare groin

And let out a roar…


For this tidal wave

Your panties are tight

As he explore your curves

Your vulva’s so right…



He will get no rest

It makes him stiff

As he goes for your breasts…


Now floating on clouds

Of sweet metaphors

His derriere is so smooth

Here comes the encore…


Mr. Muscle's now limp,

You’re spent as a hen

But 5 minutes later

You mount him again…


All afternoon

And into the night

You call it great satisfaction

He calls it Snow White…


The trumpeters’ sound

You see fireworks instead

Then millions of sperm

Dance over your head…


Such a tragedy lost

So lovely they’d have been

With his hot hammerhead

Between your nest and skin…


He is so dizzy

You’re still so perky

You mount, you spread

His thrusts sweaty and jerky


Hugs and bites hugs and bites

Out of breath hugs and bites…

Slowly in, slowly out...

Teasing you, you arch, he wins...


It must end somewhere

You taste every fine inch

Of his hot erection

But you don’t have a prayer...


Your hardened nipples, moistened lips

Longing eyes in the mood

Can’t compete with his first true love-

That first and foremost fatal- Food!

You hide the doughnuts

Put the cookies away

Jump in his arms

And make mad love for another 

Long lust-filled multiply-climactic

moaning through the walls

completely exhausting

erotic day...

Arms overhead, beckoning,

Saying, 'Take me! Take me!"

He feeds.

You scream,

Clitoral ecstasy!