.
.
Poor is an image I find difficult to afford
Man as the tool to my gain is in constant accord
I can only imagine it – and it’s mine ’till he sighs
Have not met a sugar who didn’t want these thighs
To decorate his hungry lap with something fresh
Tell him I’m a mistake? – I did, I really tried but
You can’t reseal the lid on a busted nut
He took a gamble on the liquid swing of my hips
Never fearful of the snug feel of my lips
Knew he could last longer than always
What has he known? On that subject I’ve got it sewn!
Hit it like an olden broken record pumped straight through
Him everywhere – yeah – my ample tool struck true
But my mantle? Starting anew after I take and take
I am not good at what I do – I’m better
Did I not try to tell him I was a mistake?
<>==========<>==========<>
A little Word Acrostic tempted me…
Raivenne-lations 
haha… some nice heat in this…the liquid swing of hips…nice..and i mean…you have warned him..so..well… smiles
took a gamble on the liquid swing of my hips — wow that’s a cool line
sexy hits the streets
Such a sassy poem!
Oh yes poor man… he couldn’t resist could he? well it seems to be a great allure, and I totally agree the liquid swinging of hips could be hard to resist. But still to jump right into the abyss with open eyes. Great lines.
ha. the liquid swing of the hips…how tempting…smiles….there are always two sides of temptation….the tempted and the tempter….and it is a decision we all make…
I will second what Rowan said! Sassy for sure.
You can’t reseal the lid on a busted nut! I cracked up! So freakin true!
Oh, he knew! But he certainly wasn’t complaining!