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His Glasses

I wondered
If he could see
Without his thick
Prescription lenses

I pictured him huffing and puffing
His face
A red boiled radish
Swanking me from behind
The lenses getting all fogged up
Sliding down the bridge of his nose
Due to the sweat
He'd exhaust
Knocking the logic
Out of my brain.

I pictured myself
On my knees
Kneeling before him
Begging him
To take off his spectacles
His upright swiftness
Motioning for my control
Drooling to introduce
His swimming truth of thousands

His glasses
Mmm, his glasses-
I want to put them on my face
Smell where he's been,
The Musty trickles
The Dank enclosures
The Warm southern comforts

His glasses-
I want to squeeze
Them between my folds
Sloshing them up
With my excitement

His glasses-
I want to
Surround them
With my tickling thunder
Erupting my soiled buttermilk
In between
The rims of his sight.

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