Anne Shimura
Otzchiim
Anne Shimura
A pretty girl of Japanese descent
Was standing next to me in line at lunch.
I talked to her and asked her for a date,
Which soon led to another one, and so
We passed from kisses on to roving hands
Sliding inside the clothing, then to lips
Upon the parts kept normally concealed,
On to a blanket on one warm spring night.
And there her Japanese cherry was plucked,
And her desire began to blossom forth.
Her body, small in size, was large in lust.
She grew to love my holding her in air,
Impaling her upon my spike of flesh,
Until her juices ran down over me.