A poem by Sydney Stone. I do not own the image.
NSFW
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On cotton covered throne she curls,
A podium of swift-shed morals,
Her body and soul his to mold,
A willing slave, bought and sold,
He who kneels upon her pedestal,
to suckle at her vestibule,
Of inner honey lining thick,
Luscious lips for him to lick,
From high grace she has crumbled now,
A plaintive slut, his Jezebel,
And from below his rod is offered,
Seeking greedily her coffers,
As he stiffens, thus he gives,
That sweet nectar for which she lives,
Forever more marked is she,
For eternity of his and for he.
Fevered Mind 
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