source of our

greatest pleasures

soixente-neuf

when the time is ripe

when the air is pregnant

with the scent of

full-grown fruit.

you want to lie on me,

slowly creep up and

straddle me

with your right leg

as if you wish to caress

my chest/my nipples

that hardened up like

prickly pears you

rub your belly against

your head that lies

against my thighs

i open up for you to lie

you take my shaft

my sack of nuts and

stroke me fast into a

hardened stump

this mushroom pinkness

of its head

you feast upon

you slide your tongue

up and down and

lovingly devour its

silken base –

ahhh! you listen to my

sighs and lustful whistles.

i want to be in you

now with your lowered

bums

legs spread wide

your pussy placed upon

my mouth

my darting tongue

that cuts enticingly

into your crack

between the soft

cushioned mounds.

along this field of mounds

and fine ravines i sink

into your double orifice

i clamber in excitement

to your smoothest thighs

hold on to them as if

climbing an ‘indian pride’

your gaping fine-shaped

silken cunt slides

up and down

my thirsty mouth

my tongue that tastes

your innermost dew

my cock sucked in against

your cushion-tongue

this loving lick! oh last!

and if I die it must be now!

in this rare moment of

utmost exhilaration!

soixente-neuf of lust!

we die together in our

rubbing mouths and

heated-up tongues

dying like so many

brave lovers before us

me in your pussy –

your second lips

your second tongue

that mouth-like vulva

that absorbs my mouth

my lips/my tongue/my

nose and face

like your lips absorb

my cock/its head/shaft/

and balls

that slide and fall

into the furnace of

your throat/ohhh/

and then we die

and drown and drown

in our passion-heated

comes.

zolzanzelan

zjg-poetry’02/’20.