I'd love to touch, taste, lick your lower lips:
Sweet liquid of ambrosia nectar --
Make love to the rhythm of a cantar,
Produce an afternoon summer eclipse.
We spend the day in bitter putrid sin;
After we have peeled to our birthday suits.
Join flowing rivers of forbidden fruits,
And rub oiled mirrored bodies caressing skin.
The afternoon, time’s my eternity --
While swimming in the eyes of Aphrodite:
Our afternoon fling, amorality;
When we spoon quivery riding the might.
Sun sleep my love while I clean water's blue,
Your private hot pool boy is yet not through.
Adding your comment:
The smell can get to you at just the inapporpriate minute (or should I say second)! hehehehehe Gregg 
very well done. simplicity is indeed sincerity.
9 old applause
