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Were I a mechanic I would build a Machine Hard Steel and Soft Leather Warm Fur and Cold Logic

To Lead you to your highest planes of pleasure Not programmed for compassion It takes you to the brink And holds you there Touching and Teasing Holding and Caressing Stimulating and Penetrating With a hundred hands a hundred mouths (and lips) (and tongues) And all those other things you need To find your sexuality being manipulated With the virtuosity of a concert pianist Calibrated with precision It takes you again and again To that point of release (but no further) As you strive in vain for that moment That hovers, tantalizing, just beyond your reach Frenzied and Frantic You feel the moment slip away Only to find the process beginning again As you feel yourself being taken higher and higher Over And Over Again All this I would do So that I might memorize your face As you tremble upon the brink Made oh, so beautiful by your need All of this, I do, that I might remember: Remember Remember Remember Remember Remember Remember the sound of your breathing at that moment the flush of your skin the perfume of your arousal the taste of your sweat as it beads your upper lip the way in which passion clouds your eyes each and every facet of your ultimate arousal

Over And Over Again... No mechanic am I But merely a poet Verbs and Adjectives Adverbs and Nouns Must suffice in place of Leather and Steel Constructing my mechanism inside your mind To caress the sensitive areas of your imagination Can you feel it now? The soft brush of a vowel? The tender kiss of a consonant?

Moving softly within you In each of those places where You respond most strongly Words are more subtle than brute hydraulics They can allow and invite you entice and incite you To hear those sounds see those images feel those feelings That you need In precisely the order that you need them That allow you to come Again and again To that highest point of arousal As you: Imagine Imagine Imagine Imagine Imagine the feelings that throb inside your body the sound that escape from your lips the taste of my flesh on your tongue the scent of my body on yours my face as you reach that point

Over And Over Again No machine am I But merely a man In place of Cold Steel and Hard Plastic Warm Flesh and Hot Blood must be pressed into service Against that moment when you finally beg for release. There are six billion people on the planet Which serves to suggest That my simple flesh shall prove sufficient... Over And Over Again