I can still remember my ex-girlfriend's pussy
I can still remember my ex-girlfriends pussy exactly,
like a photo, or a mug-shot.
I could pick it out of a line-up with no problems whatsoever,
that delicious flower, crennelated, and beautiful,
with skin shrouding the tasty clit,
unable to hood her swelling passion.
That gorgeous pussy
which brought me, and so many others,
excastsy, squeezing and gripping,
rippling with mystery,
clenching tight as she came, undulating,
hot and wet,
her cheeks flushed, breathing hard and fast,
lips full and red, her back, her breasts, her
body sweaty above me
while there I lay.
I could still recognize it now,
although I'm sure its been battered and abused,
at least, so according to her mother, when I called her
fatefully on a winters day for no reason whatsoever.
Her mother recognized my voice instantly,
even though it had been years,
and growled at me in a hoarse whisper,
'yeah, there were a string of guys after you.'.
A string of guys,
all penetrating that succulent pussy,
with their ugly, mal-formed members,
and for each I'm sure she did moan,
and they...probably never realized
the value of the gift they got,
the snapper, the slit,
the gash, the pussy of legend.
I miss it as I miss the girl,
together bringing me so much happiness,
but I, in my pride and foolishness,
drove them both away.
