Twisting siring pain but, yet such pleasure
A gentle kiss the remiss; then passions surrenders
Cupped and flattened: is it just pawing
Warm streams of salty sweat; he is working
A sigh, a smile, a tear, and no fears
She desires him to do whatever
But, what is that she pleasures?
He stares into her hazing eyes
Is he only guessing?
She is not pressing
Limp, but still responding she, slowly,  withdrawn
Now he is advancing
She is no longer retreating but, now the tides are turning
He sly’s away, and now she is pursing
They crash, nostrils flare musk and chills, fill the air
Goose pimples are spreading
Embraces and playful biting
Grab assing, tearing zippers buttons popin’
In the chilling V. W. windows are a fogging
Flesh revealed, bare ass naked
There comes a tapping
Lovers point; what the hell, were we thinking?
Leisurely rewards, nah fifteen hundred in citations
Why didn’t we just park down at the station? 

                 by
Sinbad the Sailor Man