Erotic stories poems

The cunt is the asylum of man in his journey toward death.

I’d like to kiss you passionately on the lips, then move up to your belly button.

Poking along behind old men with tobacco drool running off their chins and never my idea I resented being ten years old too young and scared to force my parents to admit I had a real job so I worked behind old men for a buck an hour it was enough almost to buy the