yin yang yippee

tongue slithers,

like a panther's hungry stare,

she's full aware~

seeing my dangling angle

placed perfectly

at the tip

of her lips.

can we,

should we

do the naughty things

that mama warned about

and mourned about 

to her devout

religious child?

the sheets drip

with oil and sweat,

taking hold of her head,

sliding in slow,

as far as it can get.

yet the reflex

denies my pleasures 

in the dark.

a quick flip

and six faces nine.

our sexy samba

plays bedroom tag

as the sound 

of in and out

echoes to the chagrin

of nosey neighbors.

bangs on the wall

make daddy's picture fall.

no longer can his shattered pride

spy

on baby girl's activities.

simultaneous sensation

erupts...

we ride the low tide

and simmer 

to the sounds of copy cats.