I know you, Clara Vere de Vere:/ … In glowing health,
with boundless wealth,/ But sickening of a vague disease,
You know so ill to deal with time,/ You needs must
play such pranks as these. — Alfred, Lord Tennyson
I want the heat of our first kiss — the joy
of my head on your breasts. Will you say no
as my cock hardens against your belly?
After all we have done have you forgot
how good it feels? making your honeypot
drip. Slide your panties down — all that keeps me
from where I’ve been and where I want to go.
Clara, you have raised such a wicked boy.
Clara Vere de Vere you’re not my mother
but I’d fuck you all the same. Hard and Deep.
Like this. Cum in your bum. Lover, lover,
lover. Come. This world of ours will not sleep.
It grows dense with scents of sweat-fuck, bodies
on fire, roaring to us in the night breeze.
