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Morning Train a poem by Yellin' Ellen
All stories on this web site are purely FICTIONAL. The people depicted within these stories only exist in someone's IMAGINATION. Any resemblence between anyone depicted in these stories and any real person, living or dead, is an incredible COINCIDENCE too bizarre to be believed. If you think that you or someone you know is depicted in one of these stories it's only because you're a twisted perverted little fucker who sees conspiracies and plots where none exist. You probably suspect that your own MOTHER had sex with ALIENS and COWS and stuff. Well, she didn't. It's all in your head. Now take your tranquilizers and RELAX.
Morning Train
With a violent shudder and sick'ning gasp
Its' iron wheels lurch around the curve causing
The tiny room to cry in pain at the noise.
Too engrossed in each other to notice;
His mouth buried in my moistened triangle,
While my mouth was engorged with him.
Our heated bodies engaged together
In passionate enjoyment of ourselves.
His scratchy beard tickling the tender skin
Of my inner thigh, tongue on my charms.
Glistening in early morning light,
One body sliding over the other
To gain a position; promote a touch.
It will be a hot day, and sweat pours
Off his face and chest dampening me.
The grisled legs thrust his bony hardness
Into my alabaster throat, gagging me;
Filling me and my appetite with his bulk.
I devour hungrily my morning sausage,
And he laps at my pink and frazzeled lips.
His sac hangs above my face, bobbing,
As the rapture begins for me.. deep down.
I sense the sudden contraction of his sac
And then, a violent short thrust impales me.
Together we explode in ecstasy,
His fluid filling me and spilling out
As I scream loudly, filling the dawn's air
With the guttoral screams of satisfaction.
The loud screeching sounds of a commuter train
Fill the room with noise and pounding vibration.
I see the startled faces of some morning
Commuters as I pull him from my throat.
Ellen
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