Call Me Cantaloupe Poem type Story

Written by , on 2017-06-03, genre poems

The Juicy press is ringing.My cantaloupe is waiting he is anticipating.

The call comes through I am whip cream fruit.The phone doesn’t stop ringing. I am getting more juicier he wants me can’t wait to ripen her. How his hands lead down her

to weather hot cold so bold sadistic to bruise her. The cantaloupe laid out wet sexy as hell.Who would want forbidden fruit his lips will tell. He wants to juice her dripping to seduce her. The phone was ripe as can be sex call came threesome deep in he’s slicing the passion fruit.She says juice me with smile sin drip on me just don’t call me. I don’t need distractions. I am the cantaloupe. With plenty of reaction. Don’t play me you won’t beat me. How I climax with erotically juicy lips for men. Please get my juicy list with your favorite erotic pen.My orange so vibrant your so dominant. That partridge in a pear excuses the wrong pair. Hands of construction sex worker. She devil red hot and darker Passion Fruit. Like a stock Wolfie how he repaired me Selfie.

The Swiss Alps deep throat down. I am juicing inside like French roux.His mouth still open with want. I am so aroused with tricks and stunts.It was a site to make her nipples juicy and tingle. The fruit how it pushed our lips.Like Christmas time right under the mistletoe her clitoris he sips.Some things are so forbidden fruit stuck down his pants she watches. He jumps like a puppet master his leashes.She takes a bite of her pomegranate passionately seductive and sometimes submissive.

He’s hard to the core so wickedly aggressive.She dresses down with her ruby I phone apple.All sins are forbidden drench your drink of Snapple.This is a Poseidon Adventure her fruit lips he drinks down below. Called Fruit red district things get love restricted. She feels his ripple.She got deep in traveling his masturbation. She was capturing him riding him the vacation.The phone rings again sexy tongue Madrid. He was enjoying his enormous flood. She could feel him tightly jarred.So many delicious jams how they spread still juicy in her bed.She was pulsating like a bud still eating her cantaloupe.He was seducingly smoking his pipe.She had every rainbow fruit ripe.He got wet and eyes coupled the taste of him. To the very top of the fruit rim. She’s the wild card rampant. Feeling like a sadistic mutant.Her breast tingling where men most wanted women to be.In her blaze of a starve desire. He was so completely in. The Fruit took over erotically it won. He plunged over she pushed down harder world of fire. Web of fruit desire.

Passion “Fruit Micheal Angelo” drips stiff aromas and taste to sniff. Her fruit hormones he’s intoxicated. Desirably “Sex Porn” but educated she knows her juice. He overpowered her rating of a price.Getting a whiff up the Mount Rushmore cliff. Just sniff and smell sex is the pleasure but friction goes with the pain everything we imagine in our minds to gain. Hot bodies all about the sex how amazing the need again our passion fruit always remains…

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