Her Tulips
My round nose brushed her tulips,
My hands stroked her smooth hips.
As a world beyond knowing unwrapped,
Emotion releasing unmapped,
And the succulent sap secreted,
And her sweet taste my tongue greeted;
While her body turned in moaning,
and her cries reached out in groaning.
Her female musk swathed around me,
and her back arched abruptly
Before her mouth blew out a final cry,
and on her bare chest my head did lie.
Arlana Panduleni Shikongo
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