I have become hardened
to the indelicacies of life.
Flaws don't catch and snag
my gooseflesh sliding
over your quiver.
Layered: sheet, me, you, sheet,
we struggle with the chill;
your nipples tickle my chest,
your damp bushy twat
on my cock, slick and hot.
These are the supreme seconds
in which your shudders grasp
the earth's unrest--
and then you subside
like the ebbing tide,
utterly carressed.

By Jason Paul Fox


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poem, illusration and web page by JASON PAUL FOX
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copyright 2007 Jason Paul Fox