Love PoemsPoetry

RRR: Rough Rider Rhythm

On my cushioned couch
she laid like an angel from heaven.
Breathing in and out so softly
she kidnapped my mind effortlessly.

I’m in trembling awe,
with testosterone rising
and progesterone calling.
The rhythm is blessed.

And our minds clasped
in the oven of pleasure.
We went in rusty ores
and came out refined gold.

And orgasm in abundance
orientating our bodily grooves.
With whisper and moaning
came strolling the cool morning.

Rough riding rhythm so pleasing
like a Ferrari in Formula One.
And en route to a fulfilling climax
both the driver and the car are never ceasing.

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