- By Omri Shabath
Her chaperone I call in times of lust,
With codes we deal; remain discreet we must.
I probe her first – she’s Nature’s best perfume!
I pay and fast escort her to my room.
Ensconced in tender limbs she shyly shrinks,
I rush to lay her out as Giza’s Sphinx,
Attach my lips to hers in hot desire,
And light our burning passion till we tire.
Each steamy kiss thus drowns me further deep
In mountain high in which no woe will creep,
Nor can abyss to trauma drag me down,
I fade away with blows of hazy crown.
Yet after all orgasmic rounds are flown,
She leaves and back again I am alone.