Sunday, July 25

Dancing, glimmering beads of light,
That bounce back from salty beads of sweat
like rills of running ambrosia,
Fit to quench the thirst of Olympia.
I watched her intently, with mounting lust,
Then bethought me the pleasure of her caress (carcass?),
Her breasts heaving upon her chest,
So wondrous fair, fairer than the rest.

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