There must have been forty edges,

To cumming for her,

And not just any her,

But my blossoming flower,

Grown in gods sacred sun light,

Huffing and puffing,

Blowing your house down,

Humming my way to ecstasy,

Waiting is the honour,

Repressing the pleasure to be,

Explosive momental energy,

She knew her hips,

We glide together,

Interconnected in our marriage,

You need to go now,

You’re starting to piss me off,

She is going to orgasm too,

Her edging is equal to his,

And holding out anymore is impossible,

Expanding pleasure bends perseverance,

His connection to her g spot,

Throbbing with relief,

Smiling in the darkness,

We are reborn right now

On the other side of that edge

  • Author: Blue Dental Squirrel (Pseudonym) (Offline Offline)
  • Published: May 8th, 2023 22:25
  • Comment from author about the poem: We all could edge if we wanted to
  • Category: Spiritual
  • Views: 8

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