Swept within, you guide with skill,
Delicate fingers promise the thrill,
Me innocent, younger, and so naive,
Enfolded within, wet warm reprieve.
You coax, instruct, “go slow the pace,”
While hearts contrary rampant pace,
Defy young need for all in haste,
Your older calm instructs in tastes.
My urge insists my surge rise quick,
Your hips slow lift engulf my thick
And stiffening zeal, I moan, you squeal,
“Be calm,” you say, “my velvet — feel.”
“I have more holes, we’ve just begun,
You have but only used my one.
I’ll teach you well, to use your tool,
Our wetness mingled, lovers pool.”
My young mind races, on image traces,
Wet kisses linger to necks and faces,
Your back is turned, large pillows rest,
Against primed torso, my youthful zest.
“Now lover fine, you may entwine,
But ever slowly what is mine,
Thus next new hole, that I do show,
Ease lazy pace, this to and fro.
Ahh, such the student, innocent,
Keep up this skill that you present,
What manly thrust that I must trust,
Tis mutual, this goal for us.”
Yum, warm within, as I begin,
Fine eager fill, we both the thrill,
Comes forth so fine, in your behind,
My new-found trigger now divine.
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