I'm not a poet. That is the worst ode to beauty ever seen by man. Perhaps a better description of her beauty would be say that she was a beautiful as ...y poetry was awful. Even the bartender was (mentally) laughing at me and I'm sure he hears this stuff constantly. Cut me some slack, I made it up on the spur of the moment. Anyhow, she didn't notice at all how awful it was. Instead, Mary's mind went into another one of those thought whirlwinds that I was coming to love. The thought that remained. She was bent over the bed, supporting herself on one arm, while her other hand massaged at his balls. ‘Hmmm,’ she moaned as she kissed his abs, as though she was trying to make a big decision. He looked up at the reflection of her tight ass in that skirt, and then down at the full head of brown hair that now tickled his ribs. She looked up, and then pulled at the waist of his trunks, untying them and tearing them down over his hip bones. He lifted his butt off the bed, and as his trunks slid. More

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