Layered

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

poem, illusration and web page by JASON PAUL FOX
You MUST credit my authorship when reproducing this poem in any way!

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