THE LIONS DEN

(WETTA)
THE FLUID SOUND...

I seek to make you wetta than you have ever been.
Sweat, pussy juice and tears of unbridled joy.
I seek to release the inner you that no one sees as you walk around looking all prim and proper.
The one that screams my name as your eyes roll back in your head and your toes curl.
The one that scratches the skin of my back leaving a savage tattoo.
A moment as I dig my fingers into your scalp and pull you hard onto my dick.
As I stretch the walls and pound at the back of your womb.
As I bury my face in your neck and sniff of your scent.
A moment as I feel you release on my dick and it flows down over my balls and dribbles to the sheets.
I still such a big booty loving, pussy licking beast.
I still the king of the jungle.
I suspended in the drops that listen on your quivering skin and drunk on your sound.
The slap slap as we beat the ancient beat.
As you grip me with your fingers, as you grip me with the petals of your lotus.
The lily that floats on serene waters and dances in the ripples elicited by the storms wind.
My mouth finding your nipples sucks and nibbles.
I tasting of your salt, a necessary part of life.
My seed boiling in the depths rages to be freed.
I hold back.
I my dear seek to make you wetta.

JERALD HAMZAHFARUQ MURPHY