The Cunning Linguist | Poetry Vibe
The Cunning Linguist
This poet practices good karma and posts comments 13800
contest winner
lightness in the dark
For every beautiful woman that you see somewhere, somewhere there's a man who's tired of looking at her.

Site Rank

GENERAL

  4 star general
Total poems   186
Lifetime Views   40740
Total poems - 7 days   0
Total poems - 30 days   0
Total poems - 90 days   0
Total poems - 365 days   0
you need to login or register to leave a comment

Phone Bone

CATEGORY

romance

Views: 146

Ringtone on the late night goin off; I know it's true, that when a certain melody rings out I know it's you,
we're quite a distance from each other; phone calls will suffice, until I get to see you and we go hard through the night.

This distance is a mutha though, it's hard to lay the pipe, we both work, can't do quickies cause you still won't stay the night,
whenever time permits we'll slow it down and take it right, but who knows when that'll be so what we'll do is say the right,

type phrases that arouse the senses; see the zone in sewn, your voice is soft like cotton baby, through the phone we'll groan,
if not with you then no one cause it sucks to moan alone, though what I will condone is how your tone puts stone to bone.

Allow your mind to wander as you lay across your bed, and tell me all the freakiness displayed across your head,
as I tell you of how I come in, walk up, toss the spread, upon the floor you're bukkeds nakeds; legs un-crossed and spread.

I feel your body's temp'rature although we're miles apart, and as these jewels get dropped it just confirms my style's apart,
from all the men you've been with; rapid pace is how you breathe, my tongue's a substitute for fingers as I play with thee.

Your moans are like a siren slicing through the quiet night, I love that sh!t about you see you're not the quiet type,
you're pushing as I pull and yes our distance lacks the faith, we come across the night; in unison ejaculate.

You tell me that you're squirting, I have no choice but to see, in my mind's eye of all that liquid treasure touching me,
and even though it's midnight; late our business owns the throne, of carnal lust and passion; whilst we're on the phone, we'll bone.

©2012
The Cunning Linguist
 

You must be registered to leave a comment. Registration is FREE.

Register

COMMENTS

No comments. Be the first to enter a comment.

login below

Forgot your username?