I wanna make love to a poet.
Let him literally lick me into alliteration like a little sticky lollipop, couplet on my clit laced with thick bubbly white spit.
I wanna make love to a poet.
I bet it’ll be so romantic, we can fuck eachother continuously like an enjambment, jamming dick inside my guts until I can’t stand it.
I wanna make love to poet that can stand in it, I stan for how you create murals with your words, I got 8 octaves for every time you make me cum baby I can create stanzas with it.
Give me that dic(tion) formal or high, bring my vulva to a volta rhetorically shifting all these nasty thoughts out of my mind.
I wanna make love to a poet.
Make you beat this pussy acrostic, while I spread across it. Open up this naked poetry so Calligraphee can delicately cream sauce it.
I got a riddle at the tip of my tongue that I want you to try and guess, tell me your answer while I deepthroat you listening to how you sound in my esophagus.
I wanna make a love to a poet that understands my soliloquy, a wordsmith engineer that understands this ass(onance) requires both hands to steer or you might not make it.
I wanna make love to a poet that will just take it.
Lay me out on a blank verse daddy I promise I won’t fake it, I need the whole foot and not even 2 syllables short; put my legs behind my head if you want it that way or this position can be your last resort.
The symbolism in your eyes is telling me that you like to be inside, if my pussy spits haiku’s when I nut on you then just sit back and enjoy the ride.
I wanna make love to a poet.
We can doggerel in doggy style, you know that’s what turns me on.
I love to feel your masculine rhyme wrapped around my neck choking the vowels from my mouth ’til they’re all gone.
I wanna make love to a poet.
I’ll get his tercet erect, kissing and licking letting him watch me work the head from A to Z like the motherfucking alphabet. I slurp metaphors and squirt similes, moaning begging you to reach the climax so you can creampie me.
The repetition keeps me flowing, cumming everytime like a fiend strung on crack but truth be told if I ever got the chance to make love to a poet…..I promise I’m never coming back.
Author: 4calligraphee
Lust Script
“I think it needs more…”
“More what?” She says.
“Hmmmm just more personality, it isn’t youuu. The you that I know YOU can be.” He scolded.
Slightly discouraged she stood there.
“I think I need your help.”
He arises from his seat to enter onto the stage from the side staircase, she commanded her attention forward hearing his footsteps grow closer until she could feel his breath on the side of her face.
Standing directly behind her he slowly kneels down to be met with her beautiful round shapely ass staring right back into his locked in eyes.
“May I? He asks.
The tone in his voice was polite but demanding, she could feel the heat of him breathing near her already warm pool as if he was panting.
“Yes.” She replies.
He grabs her hips caressing her juicy curves before sliding her black leggings down to reveal such a snatch.
“Try it again, say the line.”
She takes a deep breath trying to ignore the calling from her inner womanhood.