The Plea

An Exercise in Vulgarity

I was chatting in Voodoo Chat when my friend Andi decided to leave the computer for a bit. But before she left, she warned her fellow chatters to “not molest me while I’m gone.” I assured her that no one will do such a thing, but I might end up reciting a vulgar poem about her breasts. She then proceeded to challenge me to come up with something by the time she returned.

And I did.

Presenting The Plea, two versions of it. First, the dynamic, raw original:

The Plea

I dream with lurid interest
Of those bouncing pair
Beneath the fabric stretched taut.

A spittle of drool by my lips,
Licked away by an eager tongue,
A tongue eager for a taste
Of one’s essence so succulent and fresh.

A gasp escapes my trembling lips
As I am engulfed by a phantasm of the mind,
A fantasy of your tender teat
Parting my eager lips.

Until I scream out
In the dark of the night,
With a wanting plea,
“Oh, Treacherous Goddess!
Fill my hungry mouth
With your warmth,
Your creamy spirit!”

And then the version in Shakespearean sonnet form:

“The Plea”

I dream with lurid interest of those
Bouncing pair beneath the fabric stretched taut.
By my lips, a spittle of drool viscose,
Licked away by eager tongue, but it’s naught;
For the tongue’s eager for a mouthful taste,
Of one’s essence so succulent and fresh.
Gasp escapes my trembling lips, as I faced
A phantasm of the mind and the flesh;
A fantasy of your sweet, tender teat
Parting my eager lips ’til I scream out,
In the dark of night, with a plea replete
With want and desire, a desperate shout!
“Oh, Wicked Goddess! Fill my hungry mouth
With your creamy spirit and end my drought!”