I'm down on my knees.
You could say praying
or giving head. I give
great, everybody
says it. Even the most
famous novelist who
jerked off in several of
his books, hit the ceiling at
several palaces while lying
in an elegant four poster
bed. He said my mouth
beat all lips, was some
thing men could die for.
It's easy to confuse
"pray" with "prey." I have
to admit I do. Some call
me aggressive. I douse
my mouth well, all my mouths
and I've well developed
legs to hold you in a
vise, a trap. I wait in the
leaves, camoflaged with flowers
to draw you in to where
something about me paralyzes
you. Then, you lose your head.