Hey, there’s a hunger in the night. The moonlight kissing the nips on the model frame. I kissed her inner thigh. Closed my eyes, she began to make me fit. She like to go the mile, all the while - I can see her tear bit. I forgot her name - Something that sounds like Penelope - May be a French twang to it. Tongue was quick, she was French I knew it. A lovely foreigner, foreign to racism. She like the young nigga by my brown skin - My shag dog fro. I’m king to her —
(c) Scott Mescudi
reformatted by yours truly, FredrickBond.