she Grabs my Legs to Squeeze

and Grunts her Pleasure sought—

her Body starts to Seize

her Muscles drawn in Taut—

a Grin upon her Lips

forms as her Face Contorts—

she ceases Thrusting Hips

when Comes her Petit Mort—

she Twitches, Pours like Sin

her Cloud upon my Vale—

a Life inside Begins

to Write another Tale.