(f/m, erotic)
By Shastar
While walking through a forest one fine day
My thoughts astray, my feet had led the way.
I came upon a clearing, and a brook,
And saw a vision, begging me to look --
Beneath a tree, clay pooled, and thou, oh love,
Mud to your knees, a rope hung from above!
What timely path had led to where you lazed.
Clothes strewn aside, your eyes with welcome gazed.
Thigh deep in mud, the Damsel’s fate was sealed;
Before you, I, your humble servant, kneeled.
Your eyes aflutter, as I traced your curves,
You’d melt, and clay would sputter, searing nerves.
We sank together, held by clay, so warm
So velvety and smoothed o’er our form,
Against your hands, the clay would upwards push.
It lapped your breasts, while I assailed your bush.
Your breasts afloat, the nipples lined with mud,
You moaned, “Don’t stop” as juices turned to flood...
Your hair splayed out, we floated, chin to chin,
Our ears grew deaf, mouths shaped in silly grins.
We hadn’t thought of perishing that day,
But many times we’d died along the way.
The rope above us said “You have to go.”
Our sink was done. We knew we’d miss it so.
We lie awake; with sleeplessness to cope,
I write this song, you gently file the rope.