The prude can excites me
With her steady repression --
The imagined red nipple
Held firm in underwire,
Nestled in starched sturdy fabric,
Runs electric.
The heart of the matter.

I see myself an obvious man
of illicit intent, my raunchy brow
Dotted sheen sweat,
an admittance
Of phallic degeneration.

Thighs interest me more than
The lips for they support,
Hug, press, sometimes undulate
Underneath while the lips
Only consume and then render
Useless pulp.