Muffins Number One
By Seymour Frampton
Sun, 07 Apr 2013
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3 comments
There were muffins
for tea.
Hot and buttered.
And you muttered
something soft
as we fed each other,
mouthfuls.
We both giggled,
and dribbled,
stickiness.
And as you led me
to your room,
and its wickedness.
You were so
ribald.
You
ballooned
the
ribbed condom
and popped it.
Oh,
my beautiful,
funny,
muffin.
Stop it!
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Comments
Love muffins. Love this
Permalink Submitted by Linda Wigzell Cress on
Love muffins. Love this poem too. Mines a blueberry..
Linda
Linda
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