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Click hereI ache for you:
a hard throbbing ache,
pressing need
drives me.
I long to touch
the softness of you,
molding my hands
into your soft skin.
I need to taste you,
run my tongue
over your hot flesh,
your wet lips.
I must feel you
pull me into
your liquid center,
wet ecstasy.
And I will press onto you,
as your strong hand
strokes me savagely,
painting you in white.
"hard throbbing"
"liquid center"
You use quite a few hackneyed phrases in this poem.
So many that it seems intentional considering your other work.
Are you trying camp humor?