Whatever is a girl to think when groping and fondling these words…a private act that keeps me from being desperately bored. But, you’re looking at my hands-the perverts, playing like I’m a poet. They search out what can’t be seen and hide out in the trees, just waiting calmly for an opportunity-then, sees it and feels it and grabs it! With treasure in hand she sneaks sneakily along, looking for her study-Down the long dark hall she goes and quietly opens the door… Shades are drawn, what light there is glows dim…her prisoners in tow.
Katestrawberry 0 Minutes
Published by Katestrawberry
I am a published author and writer/editor available for hire. I create abnormal, strange, and sometimes slightly erotic poetry. Crazy Girl. Creative Genius. View all posts by Katestrawberry