Moisture

The moisture of excited cunt
Will never blunt
The edge of appetite, but as
That hard cock probes, there is a lull
Before all thrust and must and lust is satisfied
In press and prod, in push and perch
Against the cuntal door still shut
But
She is not left to simply gaze:
She spreads herself and will soon raise
Her backside, knowing all his ways
And how his hardness wants to praise
Her moisture with those sudden sprays
All days (and nights) and, yes, always.