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A monolithic monument to the superiority of the human race.
As fickle in its moods as every black person in existence,
Prone to paroxysms of phallic arousal.
And, before completion, dreaded obsolescence.
When rendered unfluent by a God’s sexual whims,
It emerges like the sunrise after the darkest of nights.
Truly a God in its den, laudable for its alacrity
Once it is awoken, coitus becomes inexorable.
Inevitable but undeniably enjoyable,
More so when the participating partner is of the hairy variety,
But I digress.
The sight of it instantly stimulates all libidos in a certain radius.
Indeed, revealing it often leads to consummation, although usually with duplicity.
I reveal it, and thus, the ritual begins.
As the delectable external, elastic organ
Slowly permeates all the nooks and crannies of my wide open, salivating mouth and throat.
Creating an incipient taste of the highest paucity; indeed, a delicacy like no others.
Continuously and consistently, in and out.
To my consternation, its pulled out upon reaching its limit, depriving me of liquid gratification.
Nonetheless, it graciously allots me a necklace of the highest price, indeed, a necklace normally born from pugnacious mollusks.
Sordid with penile secretions, falsely believing our love affair to be ended before its time.
It wants more, more satisfaction, endless scurrilous acts; indeed, a voracious appetite.
A willing sycophant with no designs upon the throne except its undying love, I comply,
Not resisting its suave techniques as it slowly invades my honored crevice.
Slowly, then fast; fast, then slow.
Fast, then slowly; slowly, then fast.
A finger viciously molesting my prostate as it copiously releases itself,
Constantly, interminably; indeed, pulling upon endless reserves, seemingly hell-bent on filling me up.
Satisfaction is what I feel.
As a voice brashly promulgates that I am now his bitch,
I stare lovingly at his dick, my drug, my fix.
As fickle in its moods as every black person in existence,
Prone to paroxysms of phallic arousal.
And, before completion, dreaded obsolescence.
When rendered unfluent by a God’s sexual whims,
It emerges like the sunrise after the darkest of nights.
Truly a God in its den, laudable for its alacrity
Once it is awoken, coitus becomes inexorable.
Inevitable but undeniably enjoyable,
More so when the participating partner is of the hairy variety,
But I digress.
The sight of it instantly stimulates all libidos in a certain radius.
Indeed, revealing it often leads to consummation, although usually with duplicity.
I reveal it, and thus, the ritual begins.
As the delectable external, elastic organ
Slowly permeates all the nooks and crannies of my wide open, salivating mouth and throat.
Creating an incipient taste of the highest paucity; indeed, a delicacy like no others.
Continuously and consistently, in and out.
To my consternation, its pulled out upon reaching its limit, depriving me of liquid gratification.
Nonetheless, it graciously allots me a necklace of the highest price, indeed, a necklace normally born from pugnacious mollusks.
Sordid with penile secretions, falsely believing our love affair to be ended before its time.
It wants more, more satisfaction, endless scurrilous acts; indeed, a voracious appetite.
A willing sycophant with no designs upon the throne except its undying love, I comply,
Not resisting its suave techniques as it slowly invades my honored crevice.
Slowly, then fast; fast, then slow.
Fast, then slowly; slowly, then fast.
A finger viciously molesting my prostate as it copiously releases itself,
Constantly, interminably; indeed, pulling upon endless reserves, seemingly hell-bent on filling me up.
Satisfaction is what I feel.
As a voice brashly promulgates that I am now his bitch,
I stare lovingly at his dick, my drug, my fix.
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