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Click hereI found something this morning
While lying in my bed
My thoughts were still quite cloudy
Like there was cotton in my head
My hands were roaming up and down
Feeling parts of me
I had to use my fingers
It was dark.. I could not see
I felt my stomach, neck and arms
All these parts I knew
But then I felt a part
Well, you don't have one on you
It was very soft and tiny
I thought.. this part I don't know
I moved on to other parts
I just let that one go
I felt my legs and elbows
Then my ears, my hair, my head
All these parts felt normal
As I lie there in my bed
My thoughts went to that tiny thing
Perhaps it's still asleep
So slowly down my body
My hands began to creep
My hands crossed my nipples
I played with them a bit
That part had a reaction
I felt some growth in it
It was swelling, growing fast
down there beneath the sheet
I think now I remember
That this part is rather neat
I wrapped my hand around it
Gave a stroke and then a squeeze
It got rigid, felt so good
Like it said, 'Do more, please!'
I started stroking very fast
Then slow, then fast, Oh my!
It was feeling very good
And I hardly had to try
Then it made some juice for me
That made the head so slick
It looked so good, I thought..
I wish it could get a lick
Well, my hand was moving fast
so good, my mind a blurr
Then deep within my body
I felt something start to stir
The feelings were incredible
So good it almost hurt
But I felt nothing painful
As that thing began to spurt
A long hot stream of sticky goo
Flew up and hit my face
Then more and more just spurted out
And landed every place
Well, I just made quite a mess
But cleanup.. it will keep
That part is tiny once again
We'll both go back to sleep
I forgive you for having forced me to change my bed sheets before 11:30 p.m. I was quite turned on by this ode to male secretions from a man's point of view. I've heard many a man say to one of his brethren (in conspicuously loud whispers) that if he had "boobs," he would play with them all the time. If I were to welcome the dawn with a tented sheet in my line of sight, I'd never be able to unclench my fists after a week.
Seriously, I enjoyed this visual and voyeuristic experience. Your erotic poem manages to be sweet, lusty and sweaty at the same time. Oh, what a masculine mooooorning!