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Riding Hood


My lips are pink.

My hood is red.

And though I know

the roads are safe by day,

I walk the night instead.

Through mossy moor and meadow creek,

beneath the moon, I hear you speak.


Your golden eyes like beacons send

a welcome glow I comprehend.

By forest foliage, dark and still,

I plod the narrow paths until

a hidden cabin’s candle flame

evokes your will.  You call my name.


I tap against the wooden door

as misty fingers twirl my hair.

A clutch of vines creep through the floor

to tie me down and hold me where

your gentle roughness tears and rips

away my buttons, ties and clips.

You lay me bare as tundra snow

then down between my legs you go.


With heated breath, your snarling lips

embrace the pearl between my hips

and drink the potion that I spray

till all my strength is sucked away.

You bite the berries on my breasts

with piercing fangs that make me cry.

My sultry sweat, my heaving chest

confess a need I can’t deny.


So tightly bound, so widely splayed,

my slick surrender has betrayed

what little hope of virtue still

remains against your cock’s appeal.

For though I find myself entwined,

I fear you not.  We are aligned.


Outside of desperation’s grasp,

I feel a thickness that I clasp.

It burns inside my velvet sheath

with you on top and I beneath.


Above the hearth, a roaring fire

has emulated our desire.

Breathless pounding, tooth and claw;

you hold me down and fuck me raw!


The wounded gash from which I bleed

is screaming for your soothing seed.

Your fearsome howl of letting go

has made my fountain overflow…

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