Why write poems? My tongue would rather expressItself directly to your warm heaven, linger on it,Singing of your beauty with a soft caress,Instead of ...oring you with a bookish sonnet.And as I lick your pussy, I'll come to knowBoth your deep flavor and your deep proclivities,Learning how you like it: gentle, firm, slow—Then pleasure you to the best of my abilities.Instead of stroking keys, my fingers desireTo stroke you where you're deep and hot and tight,With touch and kiss and patience build a. Feel me everywhere. I want your hands all over me."Her skin was like silk, so soft, warm, I ran my hands all over her, over her breasts, so firm, but with a softness underneath, nipples hard like little pebbles, down her stomach, up over her mound, then my hand cupping down between her legs as she opened them for me. There was moisture along the slit which I spread with my fingers."Put your finger inside me, Russell, inside my pussy," and I slid a finger up in between her pussy lips into her. She had pale blue eyes, which sparkled with wicked mischief when her mood was dark. Her short, shaggy bob cut hair was a rich raven black with blue highlights, her lips thin but pouty, with a pointed tip nose, and a light dusting of freckles on her unblemished cheeks. Her slightly petite golden-tan body was lovely, with a slim waist, a taut rounded butt and slim gangly legs. Also, she had noticed her daughter’s breasts were beginning to grow the last time they had shopped for cloths; there was. "That meter was broken!"Judge Hanover looked at Helen. "How old are you, Miss Desjarden?" Twenty-four, your Honor." I see," said the judge, glancing at his notes. "You called her a 'rug-munching waste of space?'" Well, yeah," said the girl. "Everybody knows she's a lezzie." And then you grabbed her arm and tried to snatch her ticket book," said the judge."Not at all, your Honor!" said Helen. "I just tripped and fell, that's all! It was a complete misunderstanding." I will have the Truth, Miss.