Poetica 36

My lips trot down your body like a knight riding off to battle.
I tug a war with your undergarments, inside my armour I grow.
Your hands flip me soon as they can find a handle.
Then you tie your hair up, as I bask in your surreal glow.
Our tongues meet, the dragon awakes the flames as you sit on my saddle.
My sword is un-sheathed, you make sure your initial movements are slow.
Soon the stallion is at full gallop, courtesy of your gyrating straddle.
We both win and lose the fight by the cock’s first crow.

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