my sexy red kettle

She screamed

Howled even

Searing pain tearing through her bosom

The lady in red

Her midnight hair

Swaying in the breeze

Even with the scalding heat

Sweat beads the size of hailstones

Gushing off her body

Her pain echoes in emptiness

I approach

Turning the dial to end her nightmare

She whistled down

Ever grateful

Ever ready to please

The story of his mouth

Lips
Red as rose petals
Soft as a newborn’s skin
Tender as lips that have been kissed for a thousand years
This mouth gives birth to crafty smiles
Sly comments
Sincere commitments
It overflows with words of love
Promises of a perfect future
Laughter from within
Those teeth
Oh where have they not nibbled?
This tongue
A master in the art of driving me crazy
These lips, if kissed, would bleed
Or do wonders to the nerves on which they play
I stand in awe of it
Basking in the warmth it exudes
A guarantee of long hours of sinful pleasures
Responses to leave me dumbfounded
Delectable treats yet to be enjoyed
A pledge of a lifetime of service
Lips ripe as plums
Dripping with the sweet promise
Of long, hot, wet, nerve-shattering nights with no end
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