u/Ready_9266

a poem on my bi skills

The rhythm starts with a practiced gaze on vour meat

A steady hand in the amber haze

There is no hesitation, only the skill

Of a velvet touch and a rhvthmic will.

To take the weight of that hard throbbing meaty stick

With a mastery that is vours alone

A slow descent where the senses meet

Finding the pulse in the rising hard thickness

You know the curve, the grain, the glide

With nowhere for the thrill to hide as I slurping on it

Expert breaths and a seamless flow

Nurturing the fire as it starts to grow

The pul is deep, a magnetic feeling,

Mapping every inch of that hard meat

With a flick of the tongue and a gentle hold

Turning the bulging meaty stick into releasing creamy milk

Leaving nothing but lightning in the air

You own the moment, the depth, the beat