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Consolation - a poem by Yellin' Ellen
All stories on this web site are purely FICTIONAL. The people depicted within these stories only exist in someone's IMAGINATION. Any resemblence between anyone depicted in these stories and any real person, living or dead, is an incredible COINCIDENCE too bizarre to be believed. If you think that you or someone you know is depicted in one of these stories it's only because you're a twisted perverted little fucker who sees conspiracies and plots where none exist. You probably suspect that your own MOTHER had sex with ALIENS and COWS and stuff. Well, she didn't. It's all in your head. Now take your tranquilizers and RELAX.
Consolation
Lay your head upon my breasts
and let me sing you a song.
This song is a song of love
and passion and ecstasy.
My fav'rite and yours as well.
We can sing it together.
As you sense the rise and swell
of my bosom and your tears
begin to dry, the scent of my
feminine cache arouses you.
And that which was once ignored
is now enflamed and throbbing.
This song is a pleasant one
made for two parts, you and I.
Sing of past joy and our pleasure.
Sing of screams of joy amidst
the driving lust of passion.
Allow me to console you.
Yes, I am becoming excited,
and, if you would, please, touch me there,
in my dampened and darkened spot,
while I caress your soft bosom,
and taste the nectar of your thighs.
Our scents mingle in an orgasm
of sensations palpating in air.
And now, the tensing of thighs
and arching of backs, as we sense
the onset of our mutual release.
Dampened hair and smooth flesh
abrade in a tangle of ecstasy.
Oh, be with me tonite, my love.
Hold me as I hold you and never
let us slip away from the rapture.
Ellen
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