Sumerian Skies

A rendezvous of forbidden flavour    
conceived of a darker shade of pleasure.    
We meet beyond the courtyard beneath the live oak tree.    
   
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There the universe unfolds, unscrolls, cracking  aristocratic molds.    
He squeezes my juices upon his chin like overly ripened sin.    
With both hands I hold his tenfold masterpiece as royalty set free.    
Tightly drawn strings reveal weakened cotton seams.    
Lilac scented breeze stirs my long, silken waves.    
Torrent passion released within my soiled, frilly lace.    
I gaze upon his sculptured design. You Sir, I shan't deny.    
I tangle in my hem, grasping grass, struggling against him.    
He holds in deep and fills me with his fervent seeds.    
As blood slides down my thighs this cherry pie is left in utter strife.    
   
...........................    
   
"Look at you lying there bottom bare.    
Harlot in training with his seed still draining."    
Tis, my father whose punishment is not spared.    
Unhinged, he belts me, right then and there.    
I admire the welts I wear. I think of him when I dare.