Bounce

And the man,
silver in hair and aged in number,
let the young woman stretch her thighs over him.
She created a great arch like a soft bridge,
and refused his physical protest:
It stood up in excitement, a hand up,
but it would soon surrender all the cream it held,
spurting a swirl into the fate of the galaxies.
Jesus loved her,
for she was pretty and she was easy,
the perfect fruit to suckle on when ripe.
And in all her forbidden nudity,
it was the globes of her young and firm breasts,
bouncing in free and completely unknown abandon.
Her eyes were skyward:
Yes, God had been kind to them both.
Her belly ring,
it jangled like a prostitute’s bell on an ankle;
God, he loved her youthful availability, always.
She was nineteen years old,
barely a woman, but more than a girl.
To taste her was to taste the heavens:
His erections bragging pride and the trumpets sing.
The crease of her love that flowed like honey,
It was sweet
to bring to his mouth like a cup.
But it was those big, generous breasts that bounced,
that flattened any refusal
and made his eyes roll back against sight.
Her pink nipples protruded in erections of their own,
little miniature erections that she offered
to his parched and thin lips for a kiss.
And he’d suck.
Those young, beautiful breasts were a nectar:
Daddy needed his candy baby’s sugar.
Feed the hungry, feed the hungry and enslaved man;
Lower yourself onto Daddy’s happiness –
Doesn’t that feel nice? A sword to pierce her;
He tacked his pride to this little piece of ass,
so tight, a true gentleman’s pleasure.
And they lived;
She lived by the sword and would die by it.
He could read that in her face.
This is what she was born for.
Lord, she was so sweet in her giving nature,
and those fleshy teenage tits bounced in vibrance,
and trotted along in her ride for Daddy’s cream.
She glowed from the inside out:
He had squirted,
and divine lights extended from her fingertips.
An angelic tramp, nipple out for touch,
a cute love button that was begging for a rub.
She lived off his visits:
They fed her. Spoonful by spoonful, they fed her.
She was hungry and loved Daddy’s love.
Who is enslaved now?