Wind acoasting in trees of high mimicking the darkness of blue deep night they rustled loud and long
Moon of space of cold gloom brought up thoughts of ghost aprowl eerily scaring the gray of streak in hair of solid
Bumpy was the road a smooth rocky yet clear a thorn not but a danger if rode or traveled with care or not riding moonlight’s ribbon
A lark A lark a highwayman’s pleasure to plunder all treasure that bespeak take me take me tempt me all do
Riding like a cuckoo-doo Pierre rode a feather in cap as well as leather to thigh fitting close a budge of masculinity hard his pistol like rod a ready a ready to cock and fire
His rapier as his thrust was of sweet sugar hard as the day long
Riding with savoir-faire he cantered in yard of the Inn Keeper’s lair tapping with secret beat to summon Betts the daughter of swell master of Inn
Betts came with alacrity readiness she became heat and warm mellow to open door to Pierre the Night Bandit of Treasure and Pleasure
Watching with envy was Tim the Clown of wits of slow madness to froth and turn wanting to run tell
Pierre kissing lips of red pink he channeled hand of secret adoration over hills valleys until no tomorrow seemed again
Feeling her melt into his frame of hard he raised skirt of many folds and began to caress skin of smooth sweetly scented magnolia petals
Suckling on breasts of full he rolled nipples of pouting between lips of full groaning deep in throat of strong
Bending her forward he mounted her from behind thrusting with churning hips until he was fully sheathed inside
Kissing her neck with nibbling bites he thrust with rod in correspond with tongue against neck of sweet
Catching her gasps of pleasure in lips of ravishing hunger he lifted her with strength of Hercules with her back to him with feet on thighs plunging fully within repeatedly until she hollered with climatic bliss
Clasping her close he gave her a sweet hug saying I love you
By Felicia McCaw
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